


the tiny /things/ (not people)

by PolzkaDotz



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Inkheart Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, InkHeart AU, M/M, POV Multiple, Slow Burn, rated as m for precaution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 06:44:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20810792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolzkaDotz/pseuds/PolzkaDotz
Summary: Andrew was trying to read a bad crime fiction book (horribly) titled "The Butcher's Son" out loud when he finds out that he can read characters out of books—a Silvertongue, was what Kevin called him. Now he has to deal with Nathaniel Wesninski, who doesn't want to go back to his story, which is fair; he dies in the end.Little do they know that the Moriyamas also have the same book and they want to read someone out of it for their knowledge and ability to control the underground life of Baltimore.Someone who had been busy torturing Nathaniel Wesninski before he disappeared in front of their eyes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>   
You can’t imagine how RELIEVED I am to finally post this fic that I have been work since i finished ftayc!!! I’m not gonna lie and say I’m happy with everything, but… im mostly satisfied. I did well. Kind of.  
  
But this would be nothing without a small village!!! So firstly, I’d like to say thanks to everybody who kept cheering me on when i got insecure about this, but especially @pretentiousashell and @piqwidgeon for being the best mvb (most valuable bro and most valuable beta respectively)!!!!  
  
I want to thank my artist jo (woopy_t) for choosing my lame fic??? to draw art???? wowie jo is an absolutely talented ANGEL  
  
I’d also like to thank Bella and Niko for being wonderful mods. This would’ve been a nightmare if they weren’t SO GOOD  
  
And lastly, I’d like to thank YOU for clicking on this. I hope you enjoy it!  


  
  
  
art by the amazing jo at [woopyt on tumblr](https://woopyt.tumblr.com/post/188031736463/i-had-the-sweet-privilege-of-doing-art-for)!!! again, THANK YOU SO MUCH JO!!!!  


The day Andrew Minyard found out about the powers hidden in his tongue (other than the powers he discovered at the backroom of a nightclub) was also the day that he had the satisfaction of doing something he'd dreamed about for years: hitting someone with an Exy racquet for real.

To be honest, he thought it was awesome but at the same time he wished it had been _his _racquet. That would've made an even better sound. 

His night had been going as usual, meaning it was boring. Kevin, the obsessed imbecile who was not satisfied playing that fucking stick ball game for hours during the day, was also the same idiot who had made Andrew drive him to the court every night so he could train even more. 

To keep himself minimally entertained (or should he say just to evade dying of boredom), Andrew started the habit of bringing a book. 

He should've been more picky about what he read since the words would be stuck on his brain for a long fucking time thanks to his eidetic memory, but Andrew just didn't care. His brain would have to deal with whatever mystery, vaguely crime fiction he picked. So, usually the ones that had a good-looking guy on the cover as the detective. 

Unfortunately, he's yet to not be disappointed with the quality of the books—every damn time not only were the books lacking in the quality of the writing but also lacking quality in the unrealistic crimes and/or fighting scenes, something that actually interested him a little. 

(Sometimes, Andrew thought about how he'd declared his major as Criminal Justice just because of those trashy books he read and he'd start to wonder if he should feel embarrassed by it. Eventually, he remembered he didn't waste his time feeling _embarrassed_ by anything at all and kept reading them.) 

That fateful day, he'd been reading a book called _Run from the Butcher _by Karana Vicos. The terrified redheaded guy on the cover had caught Andrew's attention thanks to his incredible eye color. They were a shockingly bright pale blue, and the iciness in his stare clashed horribly with how afraid his expression was. 

Yes, that had been the criteria for him to pick it up. No, Andrew wasn't ashamed about thirsting over book characters. 

The guy on the cover was definitely cute, but not out of this world beautiful. He was also obviously an illustration, and although done in a realistic style, the rest of the cover evoked comic books strongly—which was enough for Andrew. The mix of art styles was jarring, but it was enough to make it stand out in the sea of thrillers. It looked like it didn't fit there and Andrew liked it. 

Another thing that had caught Andrew's attention was that the guy seemed to be afraid of the big ax that covered a giant portion of the lower right corner. Andrew had been momentarily confused about why there was an ax and not a cleaver on the cover (Butchers weren't firstly associated with an ax, right?) and that was enough for Andrew to buy the fucking thing. 

He'd been presented with the cover character’s name in the second chapter: Nathaniel Wesninski. Even though Andrew had first thought the guy was the detective of the story, he was actually a runaway who was the key witness for the FBI agent who was after him. After all, Nathaniel was the son of a gangster who had committed all sorts of crimes and was currently missing alongside his mother. Many criminals told the FBI agent that the teenager was probably dead, but the agent had faith or something. 

What was important here was that Nathaniel was the damsel in distress, basically. 

The structure of the book though was… a mess. Andrew just kept reading because he wanted to know what would happen with Nathaniel and his smart-assed mouth, but it was hard to pay attention to the plot when the author kept the point of view jumping messily from Nathaniel to the FBI Guy What's His Name. 

Andrew started to skim through the parts of the FBI guy, but Nathaniel's… At the end of the first chapter he appeared, remembering his mother's last words: “Don't look back, don't slow down, and don't trust anyone. Be anyone but yourself, and never be anyone for too long”. 

She should've saved her breath because the next chapter presented Nathaniel calling his uncle and asking for help to avenge her murder. 

The call ended with his uncle promising he'd help him, and Nathaniel turned around in the alleyway he'd been hiding in to find he was already in danger. 

This was all stuff Andrew had already read in the previous night session with Kevin. Currently, Nathaniel was berating himself while he assumed a fighting stance, but Andrew was having difficulty paying attention to it when Kevin made enough noise inside the Court to break Andrew's reading rhythm. 

Andrew knew Kevin was angry at how incompetent the Foxes were, even though it's been weeks since they'd last seen any of their teammates, thanks to their Summer Break. Andrew felt his eyebrow twitch when another not at all muffled bang made itself heard and tried to reign in any outward expression of annoyance, even though there'd be no one to witness it. 

It was then that he had the brilliant idea of reading out loud. 

Thinking that it would certainly sound like a hell of a bedtime story, Andrew snorted inside his own head, took a deep breath, and started to read in a low voice. 

“Nathaniel asked, _‘What do you want?’ _but the three figures gave no answer. Nathaniel's heart was beating madly, and he was holding his phone as if it was a weapon, knowing it was nowhere close to something worthy to defend himself, and wishing he could fish for his mother's gun in his pack. 

“One of the figures took a step forward. Nathaniel cursed himself in his head when he automatically tried to take a step back. It was hard to keep himself aware of all of them, but he tried to keep the other end of the alleyway in the skirts of his vision because if he was quick enough… he could escape. 

“‘_Such a pretty thing’, _one of them said and Nathaniel, who'd been ready to try to run, froze. He recognized that voice and was thoroughly pinned in place by the purry female quality it had. ‘_I know your prettiness would look even better under—_” Andrew stopped breathing and took a deep breath. This was not looking like a good scene for him to read out loud. 

Kevin opened the door from the Court so suddenly that Andrew had to actively try not to let it show that he'd stiffened a bit. Kevin was dripping sweat everywhere, but he didn't need to utter a word to make Andrew follow him to the bathroom. 

Kevin quickly got into the shower, leaving his gear on the ground to be cleaned and put away later. The sound of the shower was relatively loud, but the tempo Kevin had been playing at still echoed in Andrew’s mind. 

Andrew gripped his book a little tighter and decided to skim the pages of dialogue that explained what was happening to Nathaniel. He knew through the expository paragraphs that Nathaniel hadn't been able to use the opening to run away and was actually shoved inside Lola Malcolm's car, alongside Lola's brother and his bestest friend. The next chapter started with Nathaniel looking at himself in the rear view mirror as he was tortured. 

Andrew gave a quick look through the book, and it didn't seem to contain any sexual assault like he thought it would. 

“Nathaniel’s bumpy skin had splotches of blood but Nathaniel couldn't bring himself to care about them; he was grieving about how his life was probably coming to an end and he was still nothing_,_” Andrew read out loud, paused because he hadn't really meant to (but at least Kevin didn't seem to have heard him) and, shrugging, kept going. “His hair was completely in disarray, his muscles ached but it was nothing compared to how horrible the pain on his cheek was and how it hurt to swallow his screams as Lola dragged the dashboard lighter all over his arms, taking special care with his knuckles. Nathaniel flinched at his own mirrored face—his straight nose, his blue eyes, the auburn color of his hair, all legacies from his fuck of a father—knowing that he was probably going to be facing him again in a few hours. The worst thing was that he'd finally given up on following his mother's orders of doing this alone and now his uncle was going to be too late to do anything to keep Nathaniel alive. He'd only have another corpse to aveng—” 

It was a sudden _squeak_ of feet moving over the cold tiles that alerted Andrew that he wasn't alone anymore, even though Kevin was still soundly in the shower. 

There was no additional sound but Andrew simply reacted. He got Kevin's dumb stick from near him and swung it towards where he'd heard the sound with a sudden movement, expecting to hit absolutely nothing. 

Instead, he made solid contact with the stomach of a red-headed, already thoroughly beaten up guy. 

The stranger crumpled to the ground with a choked-off grunt. Andrew didn't waste any time to approaching the guy still brandishing the Exy racquet as if it were a sword. 

“Who are you?” Andrew asked in a low voice. The moaning mess on the ground stopped making sounds and turned into an even smaller ball. 

“Fuck you,” he said, muffled by his arms. 

Andrew thought about maybe kicking him, just to see if he would give a more serious reply that way, but Kevin decided to turn off his shower, and a few seconds later he was coming out of his stall. 

Andrew looked at him, and that was clearly a mistake because the wounded idiot on the ground used that as an opportunity to try and scramble away to the door, moving so quickly that he was able to get out of the room before Andrew could stop him. 

“Who the fuck was that?” Kevin asked, but Andrew was more worried about following the intruder, who was currently banging his head once on the door of the stadium that Andrew had locked up when he and Kevin had gotten in. 

When the guy noticed that Andrew was near him, he gave his back to the door and stared at Andrew with an intensely wary and, at the same time, thoroughly terrified look. Andrew froze when he got a good look at him. 

“Nathaniel Wesninski,” he murmured and tried to wrap his head around the fact that the same guy on the cover of the book was somehow _here_, looking back at him and very much alive, with flesh and bones and everything. 

_What. The fuck?_

Nathaniel showed his teeth at him, obviously trying to be ferocious but still unable to fully wipe the terror from his eyes. “Now you know who I am, huh? How did you kidnap me? I don't feel like I've been drugged.” 

“That's because you were _not_ drugged,” Andrew told him and heard Kevin running to get to them, now dressed but still letting droplets of water everywhere thanks to his hair. “Or kidnapped.” 

Nathaniel growled but didn't ask anything. 

“Andrew,” Kevin breathed behind them. “Who is that?” 

“Kevin, go back to the showers and get my book from the ground,” Andrew instructed and heard Kevin sputter but then obey him without complaining. Andrew was more worried about trying to find differences between Nathaniel on the cover and the redhead in front of him but was coming up short. There was nothing different that his memory could spot. 

Nathaniel's eyes kept darting everywhere, looking for a way out, but he also alerted Andrew for Kevin's presence. Kevin had taken his sweet long time to come back, and Andrew just _knew _it was because Kevin had seen the cover. 

He heard Kevin’s footsteps echoing and was able to see Nathaniel’s face go ghostly pale. When he darted a quick look back, not wanting to keep his eyes away from the threat for long, Andrew saw that Kevin was holding the book up. The lights from the hallway were dim but the face in the cover was still identifiable. 

“How did you put my face on a book?” Nathaniel asked, hyperventilating, at the same time Kevin asked, “Fuck, Andrew, are you a Silvertongue?!” 

* * *

Wymack was a firm believer in the Chaos Theory: sometimes, even a small event was enough to cause turmoil somewhere else in the future. Butterflies controlled the weather, and order would be brought to the world, whether it knew it or not. But his favorite way of applying Chaos Theory was by believing that small acts could change the future of _people_. 

He was man enough to recognize that in the grand scheme of things, he was nothing more than a jock. His simple understanding of Chaos Theory probably wouldn’t grant him any awards, but it did give him something he considered much more important: a way of acting. A motto, if you will. The way he treated all of his athletes, definitely. 

The reason Wymack gave second (and third and fourth and fifth chances) to his athletes was that he hoped that someday, one of those small offerings would be enough to change their entire future; just like life had given Wymack himself a chance of fighting for his own happiness, many years ago. 

When his phone rang, too late in the evening to be the bringer of any good news, Wymack picked it up while trying to keep his breathing calm after he read “Kevin Day” on the screen. “What happened, Kevin?” 

Kevin’s obvious labored breathing worried Wymack even more right off the bat. “Kevin? _Breathe_.” 

“Coach,” Kevin croaked. “There’s an emergency.” 

“What kind of emergency?” Wymack demanded, thinking about old acquaintances and mob families. “Where are you?” 

“We are going to Abby’s house,” Kevin answered but didn’t bother to give an answer for the first question. 

“Andrew’s with you?” 

“Yes,” Kevin gave a loud and sudden laugh, clearly born out of hysteria. “He’s a Silvertongue.” 

“Is that why he doesn’t talk too much? Because his tongue is made of metal?” Wymack asked, even though he was confused about the direction of this conversation and was mostly humoring Kevin. 

Kevin laughed again, less hysterical than the first time. Wymack frowned but didn’t say anything as he waited for Kevin to recover the sanity he had lost, apparently. 

“Not that kind of silver,” Kevin sounded cryptic. “We’re going to explain it to you at Abby’s.” 

He hung up and Wymack wanted to glare at him for presuming (rightly so) that he was still at Abby’s home. 

Wymack was worried, but he tried not to let it overwhelm him. Whatever had made Kevin panic could probably be resolved. If it couldn’t, _Andrew _would be the one calling him because Kevin would’ve been drunk out of his mind. 

Later, he would think back on this call and think of chaos. Think of tiny actions that were able to change lives. As it was, he just got out of the kitchen where he’d gone to take the call and went back to sit beside Abby on the couch. 

“Kevin’s coming. Some kind of emergency.” 

“Is he hurt?” 

“Not physically, I don’t think.” 

Abby frowned at him. “I’ll get my emergency kit anyway.” 

* * *

Andrew had a lot of questions, but he didn't mind waiting for answers. 

… 

Who was he kidding? He took the book from Kevin's hand, threw it at Nathaniel's face, and stared Kevin down until he started to talk. It didn't take long for Nathaniel to gasp at whatever he read in the book, making Andrew give him the quickest glance in history but not really pay any attention to him because basically what Kevin told him was this: 

Silvertongues were people who could read objects and characters (whole, entire PEOPLE) out of books. 

The car ride towards Wymack, who was currently at Abby’s house, was filled with a heavy atmosphere, especially after Kevin explained in a few more words what he knew about Silvertongues—and how. 

Apparently, the Moriyamas were very fond of natural riches that existed in this world as well as riches they could conjure out of nowhere. Also monsters, used as a scare tactic and quick disposable personnel. 

That's, of course, talking about the main branch of the family. Riko used the Silvertongue that had been provided to Tetsuji in a much more deranged way, just like he was deranged himself. 

Anyhow, Kevin kept telling his story while shooting quick glances back at Nathaniel. Andrew knew that Kevin shouldn't worry about what he could hear; Nathaniel was still too focused on a single part of his story and he kept reading and re-reading it. 

Which is why Kevin kept rambling about all the creatures and people he had seen until they were finally interrupted. 

“But then… This is real?” Nathaniel asked, in a desperate voice, shaking the book between Andrew and Kevin from the backseat of the car. “What I read in the book… Is it real?” 

“For you, yes,” Kevin said, not bothering with sugar coating anything. “Or better yet, it used to be. You probably went missing from the original story altogether. For us? It's _definitely_ just a story.” 

The silence in the drive after that cheerful statement did make Andrew wonder about all the instances where he could've found out what he was and didn't. On the whole, he just thought it was incredibly inconvenient for it to make itself known now when he already had his hands full of other things. 

Like keeping Kevin from worrying too much about when the Moriyamas were going to come for him now that Riko had kindly made himself unavailable for being an idiot and misusing his Silvertongue to get people to torture, probably, or that was what Kevin's face told Andrew. 

Andrew didn't care about this discovered ability at all. He had a faint curiosity to test it but probably wouldn't unless it was definitely needed. 

Nathaniel, on the other hand, seemed to be trying to be skeptical of the whole “You were read out of a book thanks to Andrew's magical abilities” thing, but Andrew could see the fear in his eyes. Nathaniel clearly didn't want it to be true but also really wanted it to be. Probably because then he'd finally be free. 

Andrew could read how much Nathaniel wanted to be in a different world—probably the furthest he'd ever be from his father, finally allowed to stop running altogether. After gazing out of the window for a few seconds, Nathaniel went back to reading the same passage near-ish the middle of the book with trembling hands. 

Kevin, on the other hand, kept giving Andrew wide-eyed glances, especially while he put his own phone away after calling Wymack as a heads up. Andrew was almost reaching the point of snarling at him to stop watching him like Andrew had suddenly grown another head but thankfully for all the involved, they only had another ten minutes or so of driving. 

They didn't have to bother knocking on Abby’s door when they arrived. As soon as Andrew parked in front of her house, unbothered by how crooked his car had ended up on the curb, the door to the house opened and Abby and Wymack came out. 

“Tell me you didn't murder anyon—” Wymack started and then stopped when he noticed that the third figure was too tall to be Aaron and too small to be Nicky. Abby’s gasp made it obvious that even though the streetlights were weak, she was still able to see that Nathaniel was hurt. Wymack confirmed it when he said, “Andrew, if you were the one to beat up this guy…” 

“In my defense, he was mostly like this when he appeared out of nowhere inside the court,” Andrew said and watched both Wymack and Abby’s confused faces. 

“He… trespassed?” Abby asked at the same time Wymack growled, “How the hell did he get inside the stadium?” 

Andrew didn't have to look to know that Nathaniel had just stiffened behind Andrew's back. It was heavy in the air that Nathaniel was currently fighting against all his instincts to run, run, run. 

“He was tortured,” Andrew informed them, and Abby’s eyes went wide as she started to pull Wymack's shirt so he'd get out of the way. They were ushered inside, where the warmth of the darkened house was… not a home, not really, but at least it wasn't a bad place, in Andrew's opinion. 

Nathaniel obviously disagreed because he stubbornly stayed outside, glaring at Andrew like there was no way in hell he was going to extend this much trust in him. Probably fair, since Andrew had, in fact, whacked him with a racket on the first sweet chance he got. 

Still, it was cold. Andrew wanted a hot chocolate and to go back to bed. 

“You have no money, no identity, and you're currently bleeding,” Andrew reminded Nathaniel in a low voice. “Come inside or don't: I don't care. But you didn't have a safe place in your own world and you don't have any of your mom's things in this one.” 

It didn't take long for Nathaniel to grudgingly come inside, with a jaw that was protruding a bit from anger. 

“Good boy,” Andrew mocked him, which made Nathaniel hiss. Andrew didn't bother giving any sort of reaction, just turned and made his way silently towards the kitchen where he knew the others would be, thinking about how awkward it would be if his brother and his cousin were to wake up. 

Abby already had her first-aid kit ready while Kevin talked to Wymack in a low voice. Nathaniel sat in the chair Abby had put in front of her like he was going to face his execution. Andrew went and stood near Kevin, who was telling Wymack about how he'd gotten out of the shower to see an unknown guy running away. 

Kevin explained again what Silvertongues were, and then he glanced quickly at Andrew and said, “I didn't tell this to you for obvious reasons, but the real reason for why Riko was called to the main branch's home is because he had a Silvertongue with him, and he reported that he was much weaker than he was in actuality.” 

Wymack crossed his arms. “Who was it? What happened to them?” 

“It was Jean Moreau,” Kevin said, and Andrew didn't react to that information, although Wymack did by letting out a gigantic curse. “Jean was powerful enough to bring people out of the books, like Nathaniel, and Riko used his abilities to…” Kevin blanched and then took a shaky breath. “It doesn't matter. The main branch was obviously not pleased with it, so they forced Riko to announce he was retiring, and he's currently being punished, alongside Lord Tetsuji.” 

Andrew didn't bother to pay attention to the questions Wymack was making about the situation because he finally had the answer to the last secret Kevin had been keeping, apparently. 

Andrew had been told that Riko was being punished for betraying the Moriyamas, but Kevin had looked very much not ready to disclose any more than that when he asked Andrew for protection. 

It also made sense why Kevin was so paranoid: he was probably worrying too fucking much about how the Moriyamas could be coming after him for not reporting Riko immediately. 

However, the truth was that Andrew couldn't give two shits about why the Moriyamas were after Kevin. He didn't need to know all the secrets Kevin had ever kept in his pathetic life to protect him. If it wasn't an important factor that would get in Andrew's way, he just wouldn’t care. 

Wymack turned to give Nathaniel a dubious look after Abby pronounced she was done stitching him up, and it was evident that he didn't really believe them. Andrew expected him to ask for a demonstration, but Wymack simply sighed. 

“So what we have here is a character from a book with no documentation, no money, nothing, who we can't send back to the book?” 

“Andrew can send him back. I've seen it being done,”” Kevin said. “The problem is I don't know how it's done, and I'd have to contac—” 

“I don't want to go back,” Nathaniel interrupted Kevin, and Andrew saw that his hands had turned into fists. His voice was also starting to get louder. “I can be out of your way in a matter of seconds, and you won't even remember I ever existed. I just need—” 

“Lower your voice,” Andrew growled and Nathaniel shut his mouth up with a loud snap. Andrew could see that he was almost on his feet, ready to just fucking _go_. What a dumb boy. 

"Nathaniel, is it?" Abby asked and waited for Nathaniel to give a shaky nod. "We won't throw you out onto the streets, don't worry about that. But are you certain you don't want to go back? Think about your parents, your family, your friends…" 

"His mom just died and he's running from his gangster father who wants to torture him," Andrew provided the information dispassionately as he got up to make his hot chocolate and received a lot of open mouths for his trouble. "What? It's what happened at the beginning of the book." 

Nathaniel laughed inappropriately at that, which immediately drew the eyes of everybody back to him again. Although he was still sort of smiling, there was no happiness or mirth in his face. 

"The end of the book is much worse, in my opinion," Nathaniel said, smirking with dead eyes. "I would know: I die in it." 

That effectively killed any questions about even trying to figure out how to send Nathaniel back. 

Abby started to say quietly that they could let Nathaniel sleep on the couch, but Andrew snorted at that. 

"He's not staying here," Andrew said, and his face must have been doing something interesting because Nathaniel flinched and tried to hide it and Wymack sighed. "We're also not telling any_fucking_body about this." 

"He'll stay with me," Wymack said, and Nathaniel flinched again, drawing everybody's eyes back to him. Wymack waited for a protest that didn't come and carefully continued, "We'll tell the others that he's my distant cousin, and a distant aunt wants to be rid of him or something stupid like that." 

Wymack could probably say that he found Nathaniel on the streets and decided to give him a second chance and no one would blink a fucking suspicious eye. It just seemed like something Wymack would absolutely do, after all. 

Andrew didn't care though, his hot chocolate was ready and he was going to go back to bed in a few seconds. 

Kevin opened his mouth to complain about Andrew's sugar intake but Andrew only pointed a finger at him, which was enough to silence him. It didn't take long for Abby to start yawning, which prompted Wymack to declare that it was time for him to go home. 

Nathaniel looked like he was marching towards his execution when he accompanied him, but Andrew didn't watch as they went away. He went up to the bedroom he called his when he stayed at Abby’s and looked at the sparse pile of books he had by his bed for a long time, drinking and thinking until he was holding just an empty mug. 

It was a lot of information to process but even worse was trying to predict if this was the presage for something, good or bad. 

Andrew sighed and got up to take his mug downstairs, and also to brush his teeth. It wouldn't do him any good to waste time trying to predict the future. 

It took him an incredibly long time to fall asleep. 

* * *

Somewhere far away from there (although not far away enough as some would wish for, maybe), Kengo Moriyama watched a sorry excuse for a human being take his last breath and die pathetically after taking his deserved punishment. 

Jean in turn watched Lord Moriyama with ice coating the innards of his stomach, his resolution to keep his opinions on this matter to himself. He was glad to be out of Riko's reach, but it was certainly worrisome that the amount of blood and violence that he saw daily had increased, although it was nice to not be one of the fonts. 

He'd be crazy to open his mouth and protest witnessing anything. He didn't think he was particularly smart but Jean knew he also wasn't that dumb. 

At the end of the day, it wasn’t an agonizingly long torture scene, like Jean had been forced to watch in the past. Just an execution. It wouldn't seem like two distinct situations for a lot of people, but for Jean? They were vastly different. 

A crew started to clean off the corpse and his squishy bits from the ground; however, that wasn't what mattered for Jean right at the second. Stoicism was the thing that kept him upright when the guy's eyeball popped out of the socket (what made it fall? Jean had no idea, he'd been in his happy place while it happened), alongside the certainty that his powers were going to be useful in a few moments. 

Lord Moriyama's son had asked for Jean's presence in his office a few days ago to speak about the matter at their hands and what Jean's role was going to be. Jean had thought it was weird that he'd been here for weeks and no books had been placed in front of him. Riko had made him read something at least once a week but usually more than that. It had been how they discovered Jean's powers had limitations—although they weren't as bad as Riko made it seem to Coach Tetsuji. 

At his current occupation, the problem the Moriyamas were having was that Baltimore had been thrown into a bit of a chaotic crime scene, which displeased the Moriyamas very much so. It was beneath them to leave a territory that was theirs in the hands of a lunatic with a gambling problem. 

The lunatic was currently being mopped from the ground bit by bit, but it left Baltimore without a strong leader and therefore vulnerable. 

“You are going to read us someone who knows the area,” Ichirou Moriyama had told Jean in his office, and he made no effort to hide how it wasn't his idea and that he definitely disapproved. “They have to be loyal to us, of course, and find that working for us is a good enough reason to whatever end they'd get in their own story.” 

So there went Jean after whatever books he could find that 1) were set in Baltimore, 2) had a crime lord of some sort, and 3) gave said crime lord a tragic end. 

It took Jean three months of browsing both the internet and public libraries to find the perfect character. Nathan Wesninski was ruthlessly loyal to the mafia family he “served” in his story, ruled with an iron fist, had a crew of specialized criminals who were blindly loyal to _him_, and all of them were doomed to die at the end of their book after torturing Nathaniel Wesninski and being caught by Nathan's brother-in-law, whom Nathaniel had asked for protection and who had obviously failed to do so. 

Jean came back to himself when he heard his name being called. He looked up to where both Lord Moriyama senior and junior were standing. Ichirou gave Jean an almost imperceptible raised eyebrow, which prompted him to dive into his backpack for the book, trembling fingers thankful that Jean had the foresight of marking the correct passage ahead of time. 

Opening the book, Jean looked one last time to his new bosses and began to read. There were few people in the room but all of them seemed to be holding their breath as Jean spoke clearly and calmly, much calmer than he actually felt. 

It had been made clear to Jean that the Moriyamas had been functioning without a good enough Silvertongue for approximately seven years, since their last one died of old age (and wasn't that a relief, to know that with the main branch of the family, he probably wouldn't be tortured to death, even if he just followed along with whatever he was told to do? It was almost like being _free_). 

So they were all watching as Jean performed his first big trick in front of them, and Nathan Wesninski appeared out of thin air, taking a millisecond to assess his situation and draw his guns from their sheaths. 

Obviously, all the people in the room did the same, and Jean took a deep breath to keep himself still and not just throw himself to the ground like his instincts were screaming at him to do. 

Ichirou gave Jean an annoyed glance. “Next time, try to bring them unarmed.” 

“Yes, Lord Moriyama,” Jean said without really knowing how he'd achieve that. So he went back to watching Nathan Wesninski right when he was able to see the man moving out of the corner of his eye. 

“Welcome, Nathan Wesninski,” Kengo said, and his body was suddenly taken over by a coughing fit. A woman that Jean had never seen before rushed to him with a white handkerchief and a cup of something. Kengo took it wordlessly from her hands and drank avidly as the entire room waited for him to recover himself. “It is a great pleasure to welcome you to Moriyama's house.” 

Jean almost scoffed but caught himself just in time. The Moriyama's “house” had more than 50 rooms for guests. It was the Moriyama's palace, probably. 

“I don't remember receiving any sort of invitation,” Nathan said, voice grave but careful. Apparently, he understood that he was outrageously outnumbered and would tread on with politeness instead of bullets. That was good, or at least Jean thought so—for his own bodily safety. “I don't even remember meeting anyone named 'Moriyama'.” 

“I suppose that would be difficult since we don't live in the same world,” Kengo said and made a gesture in Jean's direction. Nathan looked at him and Jean slowly lifted the book in his hands so the cover was visible. After a moment of hesitation, Nathan Wesninski put his guns back where they came from and extended a hand for the book without moving from his place. 

Not really keen on dying, Jean threw the book at his feet. Nathan gave Jean a cold look but did get it from the ground. 

Jean was glad he wasn't Nathaniel. Nathan's eyes drank the cover with evident hunger, and his fingers bent the book in a way that was probably damaging the paperback. 

“Other world, huh?” Nathan muttered to himself, but Kengo still said, “Yes.” 

Nathan's eyes scanned the room once more, but quickly went back to the book. “What do you want from me?” 

Kengo explained: Silvertongues, what was happening in Baltimore, everything. He said that Nathan was obviously the best candidate since he already knew the area and at least on this side of the universe, Nathan wouldn't have to come against something as pesky as death. 

Nathan listened attentively and didn't interrupt to ask questions. Jean knew he was a smart guy and that he'd probably put two plus two together and got to the realization that he didn't have any way to go back to his world, not without finding a Silvertongue of his own (or damaging the one he knew badly enough). 

Jean also knew that Nathan was smart enough to see it was pointless to go back to a world where he didn't have any future. 

When Lord Moriyama senior turned to Nathan and asked, “Are you willing to take on this offering?” Jean heard, _Are you ready to be mine?_

_“_Not without my own loyal crew,” Nathan answered, which Jean translated to, _Not without people I can actually trust_. 

Kengo turned to Jean for the first time since he'd been brought to the main branch of the Moriyama family and waited. 

“I can't bring more characters out today,” Jean said, carefully keeping out the information of how many characters he could actually read out of books. 

Ichirou looked at him with his dark, serious eyes but appeared to be satisfied by Jean's careful answer. 

“I can give you my word that we'll bring as many of your people as you want out of the book.” 

Nathan acquiesced to that with a slight movement of his head. “Can I keep this with me tonight?” he asked, holding up the book. 

“I don't see why not,” Kengo said and with a careless gesture of his hand, most of the people started to move out of the room. Jean carefully stood and, after a brief nod from Ichirou that he was doing the right thing, he walked out of the room as well. 

Jean only let the ice inside of him melt when he was safely inside his bedroom, stomach unpleasantly revolting against itself. 

_At least I'm not with Riko_, Jean thought and tried to take comfort in those words. The comfort was practically non-existent, and the words only left Jean with goosebumps crawling on his skin, faithful companions to the nightmares he was fighting against reliving. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a blowjob happens in this chapter, but its not explicity described! If you still dont want to read it, stop reading when you get to "Roland watched him approach with a funny glint in his eyes" and jump the next two paragraphs after that until you get to "Roland panted as he looked down at Andrew" :D

The next day, it took Andrew a few seconds after waking up to remember why he felt so different. Actually, it took until after his second cup of coffee to notice that Kevin was quietly staring at him, watchful and a little bit apprehensive. 

Then Andrew remembered Nathaniel and frowned at Kevin. Kevin was lucky there was no one else awake besides the both of them and Abby, otherwise, Andrew would make sure to hit Kevin under or over the table for being so obvious that something going on. 

Nicky decided to appear right at the moment Kevin finally noticed that Andrew was looking back at him and he quickly turned his gaze away. Nicky announced his “Good morning!” in a voice too loud for Andrew’s sleep-deprived brain and Andrew glared at him, which made Nicky flinch but not really turn his volume down all that much. He just kept on rambling about anything without much of a care for Andrew’s obvious irritation at him, kissing Abby on the cheek as he sorted out his own breakfast. 

Kevin’s eyes went back to Andrew. Apparently, he hadn't really understood that he should be more discreet. Snarling silently, Andrew kicked him in the shins under the table. Kevin winced. 

Stop staring at me, Andrew mouthed menacingly and Kevin squinted at him, then started to play with his fork on his empty plate. 

It took Aaron another twenty minutes to show up, shuffling inside the kitchen like a zombie. Andrew watched the scene for a few seconds and then got bored, so he zoned out. 

Unfortunately, his brain decided it would be a great idea to entertain the possibilities of his powers. The first thing that it thought about was how many cars Andrew would be able to read for himself before it started to get suspicious. Yes, his GS was sleek, expensive and fast (most of the qualifiers Andrew cared about) but if Andrew could have as many as he wanted… 

Yeah, the law would be unhappy with him, but… maybe he could have one undocumented car? In case of an emergency? 

Maybe just a Maserati? 

Or maybe, thought his brain, he could have one _magic_ undocumented car? There was bound to be a magic car somewhere in some book that had some sort of protection against the law. 

No flying cars, though, _obviously_. Andrew didn't even want to imagine what driving was like from higher up. 

Fuck, could Andrew read himself a pet dragon, though?? That would be kind of neat. When he was a kid, dragons were one of his few interests, until he started to care more about surviving than mythical creatures. Surely he'd be able to find something cool that would _totally_ help him in a fight. 

Andrew’s reverie was interrupted by the front door opening suddenly. Abby, Andrew, and Kevin watched as Wymack approached the kitchen, while Nicky and Aaron continued to be none the wiser about the sudden change in the kitchen's atmosphere. 

“Good morning,” Wymack said in his normally gruff voice, going straight to the cupboard to get ‘his’ mug (although he denied having a mug outside his house), filling it with coffee. Both Abby and Kevin kept watching the doorway for the kitchen, empty of redheads. Andrew didn’t even bother moving to follow Wymack with his eyes. 

“Where is—” Kevin started to ask and winced again when Andrew kicked him even harder than before. “_Fuck,_” Kevin growled and Andrew saw in his eyes that he wanted to kick him back, but was too chickenshit to do it. 

Wymack started to chat mindlessly with Abby, who also seemed to be on the verge of asking where Nathaniel was. Abby and Wymack kept talking until Nicky and Aaron got up and started to put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher after giving them a perfunctory quick rinse in the sink. When they were almost finished loading the dishwasher, Abby’s doorbell rang. 

The four of them looked at one another. Nicky’s voice filled their silence with a shrill “Who's here so early???”, and Wymack cursed under his breath. “I fucking told that idiot to just open the fucking door when he got back…” Wymack said and went to open the door. 

It took him five minutes to come back, which was a fucking long time. Nicky was trying to convince Aaron that they needed to marathon some stupid fucking game, already completely over his curiosity about who their visitor could be but his voice died quickly when Wymack got back with a sweaty Nathaniel behind him. 

Nathaniel looked… good. Sort of. Although the whole sweaty look was disgusting, Andrew thought he looked a tiny bit more resigned with his situation than yesterday. Andrew took in Nathaniel's obviously borrowed athletic gear, and how the dark circles under his eyes made his face look stark. Maybe Nathaniel would try to pass them off as a result of his many wounds, but Andrew wasn’t dumb: he knew that Nathaniel hadn’t slept at all. Nonetheless, he still looked better than yesterday. 

“Wow,” Nicky breathed out, staring Nathaniel from head to toes and then back up. “What a snack.” 

“Gross,” Aaron commented with a scrunched nose, also watching Nathaniel and his many, many bandages with mild interest. 

“This is a distant cousin of mine, Neil,” Wymack told them in a dispassionate voice and Andrew let one of his eyebrows go up not only at the alleged family ties as well as the new name. “He’s going to be staying with us for… a while.” 

“He can stay with us for however long he wants,” Nicky smirked and approached ‘Neil’, one hand extended for a handshake. “Hi, my name is Nicky. You seemed to be in need of a nurse. May I offer my services to you? For free, of course.” 

“Abby's already my nurse,” Neil said in a British accent, which made Andrew’s eyebrows raise themselves even more. “Thank you very much for your kind offer, though.” 

Nicky gasped at Neil's accident but pouted when he heard what he'd been told. His pout got larger when he tried to hold onto Neil’s hand for a second too long and Neil was able to weasel his hand away. None of the others presented themselves, which made Abby roll her eyes at them and do it—not even blinking when she had to say Andrew’s and Kevin’s names. 

Neil nodded at them but didn’t say anything. Abby told him to wait in the living room so she could check his bandages, and away Neil went, with Nicky following behind his trail in a quick shuffle, a mischievous smile on his face. 

Kevin kept giving Andrew sneaky looks but they were much more subtle now and he also didn't dare to say anything. 

Smart boy. 

* * *

Neil spent the rest of the day following the four of them around and Andrew quietly didn't know what to think about it. 

He knew Neil was only near them because, for some reason, Wymack scared him. Andrew could guess that a certain gangster father had something to do with his fear but it still was a bit funny to Andrew that anyone could be afraid of _Wymack_. It was so obvious that he was all snarl and growl, but not bite. However, Andrew couldn’t stay on a high horse of traumas when just certain words were enough to turn his brain off. 

Still, there was Neil with them, putting up with Nicky's blabbering without giving any input in their “conversation”. Nicky also didn't seem to care that Neil wasn't really answering any of his many, many questions and proddings. Probably due to the years of exposure to Andrew's silences and Aaron's quiet grumblings. 

Another reason why Nicky probably didn't care was that he thought Neil was hot—a fact that he made abundantly clear every few minutes or so. Neil would only blink at him without making it clear how he felt about being hit on. He didn’t even look uncomfortable. Just confused. 

Which didn't help Andrew at all because _Andrew_ also thought he was hot. It had been the whole reason he had picked the book after all, even though he had guessed that the hot guy would die at the end of the story (a sore point now for Neil, probably). 

Not that it would make any difference if Neil told them if he was interested in kissing guys or whatever. Andrew wouldn't act on it, not with someone he knew. It was strangers, Roland or no one for him, thank you oh so much. 

Still, the lack of evident disgust made a lasting impression on Andrew's mind, even if he didn't want it to. 

Neil apparently didn’t mind spending his entire day just watching Aaron, Nicky and Kevin taking turns in playing games, mainly because Andrew refused to drive Kevin to Court today. Sometimes though, Neil would appear to be incredibly tense and almost like he was expecting the other shoe to drop at any minute. It didn’t help him to seem relaxed when whenever Abby made some sound in her bedroom, Neil flinched and watched the door apprehensively. He was never over the top with his reactions, so Andrew knew that none of the others had noticed it—not even Nicky, who kept throwing looks at Neil and talking to him. The important thing was that _Andrew _had noticed. 

So when Andrew got up and went to the kitchen to find something to eat, he was a little bit surprised to notice that he'd been followed. 

“How can you do it?” Neil asked in a murmur, dropping the accent and not caring that Andrew kept ignoring him while he made himself a sandwich. After a few seconds of silence and two bites of his sandwich, Neil spoke, again accentless. “How can you still be living like everything is _normal_? Like your life hasn't changed in a major way and that there's no going back?” 

Andrew couldn't help himself—he scoffed. 

“My life didn't 'change in a major way',” he said, derisively. “You are nothing and the thing that brought you here was also nothing. Get over yourself.” 

Neil was obviously trying to suppress the incredulity he was feeling but was doing a poor job of it. 

“How can you say that,” Neil said but didn't say anything else. Andrew watched him for a few seconds while he finished his sandwich, noticing how the attention was starting to bother Neil more and more until after a few seconds he finally looked away. That was enough to make Andrew open his mouth again. 

“It's not going to affect my life in any way,” Andrew said, finally. “_You_ are the one who was heavily affected by it. You are now secure, even though you seem to cling to your stupid fear of large, grown-up men.” Neil raised his eyes to give Andrew a vicious glare that went ignored. “I don't plan to read anyone out of anywhere again and you get to live a little longer. Take this chance to sort yourself out. And stop acting so jumpy about everything, you couldn't be more obvious that you're a pity case waiting to be coddled.” 

Neil scowled harder and didn't back away when Andrew got up and stood right in front of him, close enough that Neil's eyes crossed a bit. _Close enough to ki—_

“It would also be good for your health if you kept yourself away from Aaron, Kevin, and Nicky,” Andrew said in a low voice. “You're probably not going to bring a threat to us here but I've read your story. I know how you _attract _all kinds of troubles.” 

“I don't know if you've noticed but it's _your cousin_ who doesn't stop talking to me.” 

“Keep it that away,” Andrew barely evaded knocking Neil's shoulders with his own as he went back to the living room. 

“Andrew?” Neil called in a louder voice, his British accent back in place. Andrew didn't turn but he stopped when something heavy fell right where his feet had been a few seconds before. 

Andrew looked down and there was the paperback. Where Neil had been hiding it he didn't know but some pages were folded over and the book had obviously been roughly treated in the last 24 hours. 

“Thank you for lending it to me,” Neil said, watching closely as Andrew picked the book up. “It's a very enlightening story.” 

“I wouldn't know, I didn't care about finishing it,” Andrew said and stalked out of the kitchen. 

The scoff from the kitchen was perfectly audible to him from the corridor, though. 

* * *

The next few days were the last days of their break, and they were… interesting, to say the least. 

Andrew was not the only one who kept Neil at arm's length, thanks to his brother’s usual disgust with interacting with anyone ever and Kevin’s disinterest in being near someone who was a walking reminder, albeit faint, of someone he'd left behind when he ran away from the Ravens. However, it all changed when Neil was introduced to Exy. 

“What is that?” Neil asked, watching the game that Kevin had put on the TV, apparently mesmerized by the sport for a few seconds. Unfortunately for him, Nicky was also in the living room with them and he turned around to stare at Neil with disbelief. “You’re related to Wymack and _don't know about Exy_?” 

Neil looked at each face in the room and seemed to realize that he’d fucked up badly. He stuck his nose in the air with a still slightly confused face, but bravely stated, “It's not very British, is it?” 

“It was created by a British person!” 

Kevin gasped. “_You take that back. _My mom was Irish!” 

“Same thing!” 

“It isn't!” Both Kevin and Neil yelled, sounding equally horrified. “Anyway, that doesn't answer my question at all!” Neil continued, sounding posh but unable to hide his interest in the game. 

“It's a sport, the baby child of hockey and soccer,” Nicky explained, although he was still darting quick glances at Kevin, who was glaring at him with hatred clear in his eyes. Nicky just seemed to find it funny. “Wymack is the Coach of our team.” 

“Your team? You're all 'jocks'?” Neil made quotation marks with his fingers at the word, sounding appalled. 

“On the technical terms, yeah, we’re all jocks.” 

Neil took the chance to turn a judgmental look towards Andrew and, after a few seconds, he looked at Nicky with doubtful eyes. 

“Even Andrew,” Nicky confirmed. “He's our goalie.” 

Neil looked at the TV, watching the performance of the goalie for a few seconds. Neil even sat down near Kevin, steadily ignoring the grumbling that he was still producing. 

After a few moments of them watching Neil watch the game, Neil grumbled, “That goal and that racquet seem really big on the telly,” but didn't comment about Andrew's size at all. He apparently felt satisfied enough with _implying_. Nicky glanced between them, a pitying look ready on his face as he looked at Andrew’s hands to search for a knife—and found it empty. 

Neil didn’t react at all when Nicky gasped and was silent until the game was finished. It ended with a 3-7 score, for whom, Andrew didn't care about remembering because he had better things to pay attention to. 

Like the glimmer in Neil's eyes that was almost feverish. Andrew had a close experience with addiction, both of substances and for this god-forsaken sport, and he knew just by looking the exact moment when Neil got hooked. 

Unfortunately, Kevin saw it too. 

“What did you think of it?” Kevin asked warily. 

“It's… definitely interesting,” Neil edged carefully. “For an Irish sport.” 

“It was co-created by a Japanese man too,” Nicky added with a manic grin. “Tetsuji Moriyama.” 

Neil darted a quick eye-widen glance at Kevin, then said, “That's… great?” 

“So,” Kevin asked, sounding calm but Andrew _knew_, just _knew _that if he wasn't trying so hard to sound cool and collected, he'd be panting and glued to Neil's leg, begging. “Do you want to learn how to play?” 

Neil turned to look at Andrew. It was obvious that he was thinking about what Andrew had told him in the kitchen, the veiled threat to stay away from his group. Clearly, nobody had opened their mouths about Andrew's more than happy habit of stabbing troublesome people, because Neil looked at him, smirked and opened up his stupid fucking mouth to say, “Well, that sounds like it could be fun. I'm in.” 

* * *

Exy didn't exist in Neil's world but he took to the sport as a duck takes to water. 

Well, that was the opinion of anyone who wasn't Kevin Day (or Andrew I-Don't-Care-About-Anything-or-Anyone Minyard). Neil fumbled a lot with passes and had a not-so-great aim yet, but he was wicked fast and persistent. Kevin made Andrew take them to court every day so they could train before the rest of the team arrived back from break, coaching him in different positions so they could decide what agreed best with Neil's abilities and they came up with two positions: striker and backliner. 

Neil wasn’t a terrible dealer. After a few intense training days, where he was clearly aching but still didn't complain about Kevin's rigid training schedule, Neil was an okay dealer. However, his speed on the court was desirable for both a striker and a backliner, especially after he learned enough of the footwork to be able to outrun all of them and effectively block their paths and passes to the (empty) goal. 

It's important to note that Andrew _didn't care _about any of it, and that was why he didn’t join them. He didn't complain about driving them every day to court but he had absolutely _no interest_ in being part of their tomfoolery. When the only junkie he had to deal with was Kevin Day, Andrew had been able to tolerate being on the goal for a few moments. But with two of them there? Yeah, he preferred to sit outside. 

It also had no correlation with the fact that Neil’s shorts for some reason were really short. And all that running did amazing things to his thighs. Nicky had tried once to come with them when he saw what Neil wore but Kevin quickly vetoed his participation, vetoing even harder after Nicky cried, “STOP COCKBLOCKING ME.” 

When the rest of the Foxes came back from their breaks, it got even _worse_. Their introduction went a lot more smoothly, mostly because Seth was quickly silenced by the other’s interest. They wanted to know more about the little mouthy asshole who appeared out of nowhere, especially after learning his somewhat excuse to be here (“My mom wanted me to… see the world”). 

Nobody was dumb enough to start questioning him right away about it because one thing they were all aware of was that Wymack dealt with bleeding-heart cases, and bleeding-heart cases only. If Neil was there with a barely put together story, it was probably something big and they would, in general, _not _pry. 

They did bet on it horrendously, from what Renee told him when they started to train together again. Andrew still didn't care about any of it. 

That was until Neil decided to pester him about it. 

Andrew had been lying on the bleachers that night, nowhere near interested in paying attention to Kevin’s and Neil’s scrimmages and drills if he could just turn off his brain and idly stop noticing every fucking thing. They were still technically on break, after all, so Andrew didn’t have to train. When footsteps approached him however, Andrew turned minutely to see who was coming and tried not to scowl when he noticed it was Neil. 

Neil sat near him but not too near. He was always careful to give himself enough room to run, which Andrew thought was funny when he first started to see how Boyd got into the habit of carefully testing that—by hugging him constantly, probably without noticing that Neil was always confused about why he was doing it. 

“Kevin made me watch a recording of one of your games,” Neil offered with his normal accent, but that was nowhere near enough of a prompt to force Andrew to reply. “You were good.” 

Andrew rolled his eyes, knowing Neil wouldn't be able to see it. 

“I mean, better than I expected you’d be,” Neil continued. “You don't seem to care much about the game, after all.” 

“I don't care at _all_ about the game,” Andrew corrected in a bored voice. 

“Yeah, yeah, you're Mr. Aloofness, whatever,” Neil dismissed it with a mildly disinterested voice, that Andrew identified as a mocking impression of himself. It was… ballsy. And stupid. Like Neil himself. “What would you want in exchange for you to play goalie just for today's practice?” 

Andrew was finally tempted to turn and look at him. Neil's face didn't give anything in particular away, other than his eagerness. 

“Why?” 

“Why what?” 

“Why do you want me to play?” 

“You're the only one I've never seen play from the team. Even Seth will play with us, though he's a fucking asshole with an attitude problem bigger than yours,” Neil said and left his head fall to one side. “So? What will it take for you to play against me today?” 

“A written review of _Run from the Butcher_,” Andrew said impulsively and watched Neil's face turn white. They stared at one another and Andrew had the privilege of watching Neil's face turn cold and deadly, and also alien. Andrew knew that Neil was mimicking someone's face, unintentionally but still obvious enough that it was not _his_. 

“There's no need to be an asshole about it,” Neil murmured angrily. 

“I'm not being an asshole. You asked for something and I gave you my price,” Andrew sat up and crossed his legs. “It's not my problem if you don't like it.” 

Neil didn't say anything. He just gave Andrew a final icy look and then turned to the court, almost running back to it. Andrew felt eyes watching him and saw Kevin looking at him with a speculative look on his face. 

He was, honestly, so fucking boring that Andrew didn’t even bother to know how he’d react when Neil told him what he’d tried to ask of Andrew. 

Andrew laid back down and looked up at the stadium’s ceilings. He didn't care about a junkie's wishes, no matter how cute they were. Neil was not going to tempt him to play this stupid game when he didn't need to. 

He would also cling as tightly as he needed to keep Neil at arm’s length. Neil didn’t have anyone putting his life in danger here, but he was still… risky. Andrew knew himself, and he knew that Neil was a cliff for him to jump out of. Andrew would not be tempted by a boy that wouldn’t even exist without Andrew himself. 

If his brain was unable to turn itself off again after that, too worried replaying Neil's face going from tentatively friendly to almost _hurt_, well… Andrew could curl his lip and get back to pretending—to being bored. 

It was no biggie. 

* * *

After his classes began, Andrew sort of expected to see less of Neil around. He wouldn't be able to get inside their dorms without a card and he also wouldn't be allowed at training sessions, right? 

Well… _wrong._

Turns out, even with his decidedly dodgy backstory, Neil was enough of a disaster for the other Foxes to adopt him in their group. It was a good outcome because at least Neil hung around Andrew less, so Andrew wasn't as exposed to his sarcastic comments and his usual obliviousness to Nicky's outrageously obvious flirting but no. Wymack allowed him at the court as his “assistant”. Not that long after, Wymack had handed Neil a manilla-colored envelope, saying something in a low voice that made Neil's fingers tremble when he reached out to accept the envelope. 

Andrew knew it was probably the fake documents to officialize Neil's existence in this world. In the end, that just meant that Neil was probably going to hang around them _more_, especially after Wymack started to make noises about Neil getting his GEDs. 

With GEDs, Wymack could probably work his way around offering Neil a scholarship. Then he'd be a Fox for real. 

Not that the others already didn't treat him like one, even Kevin (although sort of hesitantly, since Kevin still looked at Neil as if he was vaguely shaped like a Moriyama's threat). It just meant that Neil would be able to play at games and be even more of an annoying shit around Andrew. 

After that first time, Neil never approached Andrew again asking for him to play. Unfortunately, he got his wish to see Andrew playing in real life when Wymack let him on the Court in the first week of training. 

Neil appeared to be frustrated about not being able to score on him but still determined to fucking try. It was disgusting for Andrew to see someone so oblivious to how pathetic they were for caring so _much_ so _obviously_. It made Andrew want to hit something and he relieved that tension against the balls he stopped from Neil, aiming them right back at his legs, back, shins, wherever. As long as it hit him, Andrew was happy. 

And so was Neil, apparently, who always gave a tight-lip smiled as he tried to contain his euphoria at getting a reaction out of Andrew, even if it was minimal. 

“Good game,” Neil said to him at the end of that first training, sweaty and red-faced and looking _delicious_. Andrew wanted to hit him so he wouldn't look so good. 

“Fuck off,” was all Andrew said as he exited his post, ignoring Neil's barely concealed snickering. 

“Do you even care about your well-being at all,” Boyd asked Neil in a hushed whisper, unfortunately not as low as he wanted to. 

No, Andrew answered for himself, taking off his gear and hopping into the shower, uninterested in whatever Wymack had to say to them. _He fucking doesn't._

Honestly, it wasn't even the second week of training and Andrew was already exhausted about being exposed to Neil's presence again and again and fucking again. He needed to relax, needed _something_. Anything. 

So he went around his dorm that Wednesday informing them that they were going to Columbia on Friday. 

What he didn't expect was _Neil to be there too_. 

“What the fuck,” Andrew said to himself, staring at Neil. 

“Kevin invited me,” Neil said as soon as he saw Neil outside near Andrew's car, obviously waiting. “Also Nicky.” 

“Not with those clothes, I didn't invite you!” Nicky exclaimed, shocked. “Where are the clothes I bought for you?” 

“They didn't fit.” 

“The hell they didn't, they just weren't the hand-me-downs you are obviously unable to throw away!” 

Nicky kept rambling and almost crying at Neil's admittedly ugly clothes but Andrew was more worried about stalking closer to Kevin, circling him slowly, fingers slowly caressing his knives in his sheaths. 

“Do you care so little about your health?” Andrew asked lowly. 

“I thought you wouldn't care,” Kevin said in a low voice. “You never care about anything.” 

Andrew glowered but couldn't find any words to reply to that. He knew if he didn't, Kevin would always remind him of the one time he cared about someone who had accompanied them to a place Andrew didn't invite them himself which made him throw a hissy-fit or anything stupid like that. 

“Why are you defying me?” Andrew asked, getting even closer to Kevin. “I thought you wanted my protection.” 

Kevin gave him a leveled look and then looked away, uninterested. 

“Neil is not a danger to us.” Andrew clenched his teeth and kneaded his fingernails in the palms of their respective hands, unwilling to call them fists. “Andrew. _Neil is not a threat to us_.” 

“You don't know that,” Andrew argued. “But alright, if you insist. Let your partner junkie come. We'll see if he likes it.” 

“Andrew…” 

“Shut _up_,” Andrew hissed and then turned to Nicky and Neil, who was still crying and uninterested, respectively. “That's enough. Neil, we're going to stop at Wymack's and you're going to put on whatever Nicky bought you or _you're not coming_.” 

Neil opened his mouth to argue but Andrew didn't want to hear it. He went inside the driver's side, ignoring the murmured “_Fucking finally_” that his twin let out and then the rest of them got inside the car. 

Well, they tried to. When Kevin went to sit in the passenger seat, Andrew stopped him with a short, “No.” 

Kevin looked at him, one leg inside the car and one leg out. 

“No?” he repeated dumbly, his face getting more and more outraged as the seconds passed. 

“Neil wants to sit in the passenger seat,” Andrew said without a hint of anything in his voice. “Don't you, Neil?” 

“Sure,” Neil drawled out and Kevin traded places with him, quietly fuming. 

Andrew almost didn't wait for Neil to be safely inside the car to start driving. If the way Neil clung first to the seat and then to the door when Andrew made a particularly sharp turn made Neil feel at least a little bit sorry about coming… Well. It would be the only good thing about this whole shitshow. 

* * *

They'd been in the club for almost thirty minutes and Andrew was, honestly, fucking tired of it already. 

Neil looked good in the tight clothes that Nicky had put him on. Especially his black jeans, that clung to his hips as if Neil had actually been born with them. 

Andrew wasn't drunk but he wished he was, just so he could pretend that Neil's body was a drunken hallucination and not actually a real live being, tantalizingly true. Andrew was always around athletes but the way he felt attracted to Neil was ridiculous. 

So Andrew decided it was time to drink a little more. 

Roland watched him approach with a funny glint in his eyes. Andrew looked back at him and decided to make a quick change of plans. He pointed with his head towards the employee's door and Roland nodded, saying to the other bartender that he was taking his break, uncaring about the answer. 

Sucking Roland off was perfunctory but also enough to take Neil out of Andrew's mind—for a few seconds. Then Neil came back, sneering at Andrew in his memory as if he was mocking Andrew for even thinking he could get rid of him in his own fucking mind. Maybe that was what prompted Andrew to be more aggressive and use his teeth more than the usual, but he knew Roland wouldn't complain. If he didn't like it rough and slightly dominating, he wouldn't have his dick sucked by Andrew at all. 

Actually, that was probably the fastest Roland had ever come from Andrew's blowjob, filling his mouth with the bitter taste he took seconds to get rid of with two quick swallows. 

Roland panted as he looked down at Andrew and it was obvious that it took him a lot of concentration to keep himself upright. “That was intense.” 

“Quick,” Andrew commented but didn't elaborate. Roland squinted at him. 

“It's been a while since you came here,” he said as if it was an excuse. Andrew knew he wasn't the only person Roland brought back here, so no way he hadn't pulled anyone in months. 

“Excuses, excuses,” Andrew said and lit up a cigarette. 

“Who is the red-headed guy with you?” Roland asked, curious. 

“Trouble,” Andrew answered. 

“Cute trouble,” Roland commented and Andrew later thought that was what had tempted Neil's temper to just go absolutely apeshit, even if he wasn't there to hear them. 

When he followed Roland out of the employees' backroom, there was an obvious agglomeration of people in the middle of the dance floor. Andrew wouldn't care about it if it wasn't for the slightly drunken Nicky at the outskirts of the commotion, obviously trying to get inside it. 

Andrew just knew Neil was in the middle of it. 

“Why can't drunk people not fight just onc—where are you going? Andrew!” 

Andrew didn't answer and within seconds he was far away enough to pretend he didn't hear Roland yelling, “Andrew! Let security deal with it!” 

Andrew approached Nicky and mutely dragged him away by the collar of his shirt, not even registering the choked up sound Nicky made. He used the same technique on many drunkards until they seemed to notice that an angry, short and blond guy was going to get in the thick of the problem and they better get away from his path because Andrew had absolutely no fear of pinching and punching his way to the middle to see— 

Neil. Dancing away from the flying limbs of a giant drunk idiot who seemed intent of hitting him. Neil had a pissed off look on his face and was obviously taunting the idiot. 

“_Neil_,” Andrew barked, ignoring how exasperated he sounded. 

Neil looked up at him and that was the opportunity the drunk giant needed. Neil took the right hook with surprising grace while the people in the club let out a collective “Ooohh” that couldn't be drowned out by the loud music. The drunk giant advanced on the slightly unstable Neil but Andrew held his arm when he raised it. 

“Enough,” Andrew growled. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are, you bitch!” The drunk guy slurred, turning around in a big sweeping movement that made him lose his balance a little. 

It was pathetically easy to put him on the ground, Andrew discovered, and the guy hit his head on the floor with an incredibly loud _ploc!_ that made all the people stop breathing for a second. 

Security finally appeared, giving a curt but apprehensive nod towards Andrew. Andrew nodded back, already looking towards Neil who appeared to be thinking if it was worth it to go near the security guys just so he could punch the guy back. 

Andrew wanted to hit Neil him_fucking_self. What a fucking dumb, _idiotic, infuriating _guy. 

“Neil. That's enough,” Andrew emphasized it by seizing Neil's wrist and pulling him through the crowd. 

“But he was—” 

Andrew stopped to turn back and hiss right in Neil's face. “I don't care if he was pissing on your fucking feet, that's _enough_. You weren't even supposed to be here! You're a minor!” 

Neil opened his mouth to argue, but Andrew shook him by his arm. “_Enough._” 

“Okay, fine, whatever,” Neil growled and stopped fighting against Andrew's hold. 

Andrew found Nicky and, a little far away, Kevin and Aaron watched them walking. Nicky was apprehensively biting his nails while the other two looked mildly interested. 

“Andrew,” Nicky almost yelled to be heard. “Neil was—” 

“Shut up or we're going home! I don't care!” Andrew said, finally letting go of Neil's wrist so he could stick one of his fingers on Neil's chest. “Fucking. _Behave._” 

Neil showed Andrew his teeth but didn't verbally reply. _Good. _

When Andrew turned his back to them so he could go to the bar to get more much-needed drinks, he hard Nicky half-yell, “Thank you!” 

“It's fine,” Neil yelled back and Andrew growled to himself. 

What a fucking idiot, playing the _hero_. Andrew wanted to smother him until he was nothing again. 

It was starting to seem more and more like a mistake to not have sent Neil back to his fucking book. 

* * *

The Foxes had their first game a few weeks after they came back. They lost, obviously. 

The second one, they miraculously won. 

They won the third game, too. 

None of those things mattered. What was really important was how the hold that the other Foxes had on Neil just got tighter and tighter as their games kept happening and Neil working together with the team made them get _better and better_. That was the energy Neil brought to their group. 

These days, Neil almost seemed like a proper human, instead of a walking traumatized shadow of a person with barely any consciousness of his own self. He didn't get jokes or references—he didn't get most things most of the time—but the Foxes just seemed to automatically adopt what they certainly perceived as a boy worth being pitied. 

They were worse than Wymack, honestly. 

Neil's natural charm worked on everybody and how they related to them—no matter how much of a little shit he was to them. Well, everybody excluding Andrew. 

Neil started to avoid Andrew. He started to do it out of spite, born from the remnants of resentment Andrew knew that he felt from that rude answer he'd given Neil, and honestly? He didn't care. Neil interacted with Kevin to talk exclusively about training, and he sometimes let Nicky dress him up like a doll and he mostly left Aaron alone. That was all Andrew cared about because Neil it was infrequent and it never for long enough to make Andrew's fists start to itch. Neil's presence or absence from Andrew's life was not important and it actually worked quite well with Andrew's desire to stay the fuck away from Neil. 

However, it was funny that exactly when Andrew seemed to notice that, Neil started to actually make an effort with him again. 

It started with snarky comments about Andrew's ability to play Exy. Or how close Neil had actually gotten to scoring on Andrew. After a few of those instances, Neil seemed to realize that being annoying via Exy small talk was not the way to crack Andrew's high walls. 

He then turned to talk about Andrew's interest in books. Andrew strategically ignored him. Neil tried to talk about anything and everything. One day, seemingly out of desperation, Neil approached him and said, “I want to make a deal with you.” 

“Pass,” said Andrew, sidestepping Neil and trying to keep on walking. 

“I want to learn how to fight. With you,” Neil said after Andrew. “In exchange, you could start training with Kevin and me some nights. It doesn't even need to be every day, just the ones where we also train.” 

Andrew thought about how sore he could make Neil before destroying him again in the gym. He thought about doubling the instances where he saw Neil all sweaty and— 

“Why do you think I'd be interested in that?” 

Neil shrugged. “The chance to plow me without having to suffer any consequences at all? After all, we'd be training.” 

Andrew had a hard time hearing anything after “plow me” but he soldiered on. “Boyd would be able to teach you how to fight.” 

“He knows boxing. That's too clean.” 

“Renee fights dirty.” 

“I don't want to learn with Renee,” Neil insisted, giving a small step that brought him close to Andrew. “Renee… is not a match for me.” 

“You don't like her, you mean.” 

“It's not that,” Neil said in a hesitant voice. “She just… makes all my internal bells ring.” 

Andrew scoffed, unsurprised. Still, he opened his mouth to argue further but was silenced by Neil's quiet, “Don't give me an answer right now. Think about it for a while.” 

* * *

If that was Neil's way of trying to make friends, it was the weirdest one Andrew had been exposed for in years. 

He did think about it. As he thought about it, Andrew tried to reason why he was so against Neil presence at all. Actually take his time to find flaws in the guy to explain why he disliked him so much. Try to make Bee proud, or something like it. 

Neil was a liar, a runner, a nobody with barely any grasp on what his own personality was, but he wasn't a threat per se. Kevin was right. He'd left all the dangerous parts of his life forcefully behind, and those parts never really belonged to him. It was clear that now he was interested in trying to learn how to be a person rather than how to be anyone—or even worse, a nobody. 

Apparently, that now seemed to involve befriending all of the Foxes. His only challenges were Andrew, Aaron, and Seth. Still, out of the three of them, he'd deemed Andrew the one he should start with. 

Neil didn't make sense but neither did Andrew's insistence on keeping him at arm's length. 

Andrew then made the mistake of bringing it up with Bee in one of his sessions. 

“What do you think about him?” Bee asked in a calm voice, taking a sip of her coffee. Andrew arched an eyebrow at her, knowing that his “I just _told you _that” was loud and clear. “I'm not asking about your excuses, Andrew, you already gave me those. I want to know what you really think about Neil. Be honest with yourself.” 

Andrew didn't have trouble to conjure up Neil's face in his head. His scars were better now that some time had passed but they did nothing to hide the beautiful iciness of his gaze, that made it clear you'd get ice burns from coming too close. His straight nose was miraculously unbroken, the curve of that annoying pinkish mouth with cracked lips, with a graceful cupid's bow. His lithe body, not at all bulky like Andrew's own body, a body that would work well either for the runner Neil was or for a dancer. 

But now that he was working on being himself, Andrew just felt like knowing more about him. It felt like an obsession, something too overwhelming for someone who liked his apathetic self. 

It scared Andrew how much he wanted to know Neil inside out. 

As he thought all that, Andrew came back to himself sitting in Bee's office and said, “Fuck, huh?” 

“Are you ready to be honest with me, now?” 

“No,” Andrew said and then got up from his seat, downing the last of his chocolate. Bee's alarm was loud, telling them what Andrew already knew. “But this was an enlightening talk.” 

“I'm glad, then.” 

* * *

With his heart once more somewhere near his throat, Jean was being summoned to stay in front of Lord Moriyama again. His steps echoed around him, even though he was not alone and he should be able to hear the sounds of other people. 

Jean couldn't. He simply couldn't take the world and what was happening around him as it was. It was as if everything had been digitally muffled and distorted. 

Then he remembered to breathe and felt a smidge better. 

It had been weeks since he'd read Nathan Wesninski from the book where he’d come from. Wesninski seemed to be doing a good enough job at managing the territory on his own at the beginning, good enough that when he petitioned for his people to be brought over, Lord Moriyama agreed. 

Jean had to write a list of Wesninski people so both Lord Moriyama senior and junior could veto anyone. Jean had read _Run from the Butcher_ more times than he cared to. English wasn’t his first language but even he knew that the story was undoubtedly trash. He wouldn't be surprised if he was able to record passages of it in the years to come. 

What mattered was that both Lords didn't see fit to veto any of the people Wesninski had in his inner circle but they thought it was unnecessary to bring some of the minor characters. So, Jean had been given permission to read four people from the book and now it would begin the slow process of bringing them to the real world. 

Even though Jean could read a person per day from books and nothing more than that, Lord Ichirou Moriyama made him read only a person per week. First to be read out was Patrick DiMaccio, extremely loyal to Wesninski and _massively_ big. After him, came Lola Malcolm, with her hungry smile and crazy eyes, then Lola's brother, Romero, and at last it was Jackson Plank’s turn. 

All of them were people that Jean wished he could forget about, or maybe just forget their crimes. The weeks went by incredibly slowly until Jean had brought out the four of them. Wesninski tried to come and ask for more. Lord Moriyama senior (who hadn't been able to leave his bed at all for a week already) told him, “No. That's enough.” 

Wesninski didn't seem to mind being denied. However, Jean was not stupid. 

He also had the great luck of being in the right place at the wrong time. 

Which was why he was being summoned in front of both Moriyamas presently, almost dying on his way over. 

Kengo Moriyama's bedroom was gigantic and without any sort of personal touch. His bed matched the size of the room, and Kengo appeared to be sinking in a sea of many pillows and blankets, which appeared to be doing nothing to stop his shivers. Ichirou Moriyama stood alongside his father's bed, watching Jean as he approached them with quick steps. 

“What have you heard?” Ichirou asked, not beating around the bush. 

“Nothing that made sense to me,” Jean answered and when Ichirou's face turned slightly disapproving, he rushed to elaborate. “Nathan Wesninski and Lola Malcolm were leaving and then Lola turned to him and asked in a hushed voice, “Now we'll search for Junior?” and Wesninski answered with a very quiet, “Yes”. Nothing more than that.” 

Lord Kengo Moriyama didn't comment, just let out a pathetic cough. Ichirou didn't even look at him, although a servant rushed to ask a thousand hushed questions to the still heaving current Lord Moriyama. 

“Is Junior in the book?” 

Jean nodded. “It's his son. But we didn't read the son out of it.” 

“No, we didn't,” Ichirou repeated and then gave Jean a dismissive hand gesture. “You can go now.” 

Jean couldn't leave the room faster even if he wanted to. 

As he walked back to his bedroom, which was looking more and more like a safe haven these days, Jean tried to forget everything that had happened in the last few minutes, and also the conversation he overheard a few days ago but had only now been called to report it. Jean could understand the disinterest from both Moriyamas. They hadn't read anyone out of the books, so Lola must have been referring to someone else, or anything dumb that _Jean was not going to waste his time thinking about. _

Jean turned his TV on and saw that it was the second half of a PSU-Texas game. He watched a tiny Kevin running on the screen and tried to ignore how his heart squeezed. Not exactly over how Kevin had abandoned him because at the end that was the thing that ended up saving Jean but over how much Jean actually _missed_ Exy. 

It was his past now though, so Jean turned the TV off exactly the second that the last buzzer went off, signaling that the game was over. 

If he'd left the TV on, he would've seen a red-headed guy invade the court together with the other Foxes players who were on the bench. As if he was part of it. As if he belonged. 

Neil was lucky that at least Lola and Nathan weren't watching it as well. 


	3. Chapter 3

Andrew didn't have to watch Kevin's face watching Neil for too long to see the incomprehension there. It was clear in a nanosecond that Kevin had absolutely no idea why Neil was having success in pulling the fucking team together when Kevin's constant nagging just didn't do it. 

It was almost laughable, if Andrew allowed himself to steep so low as to laugh. Kevin had such little experience with positive reinforcement that hearing Neil, who was in the great scheme of things “beneath” the great Kevin Day because his skills were lesser, honestly telling his teammates what a “good pass that was” or “great catch” or anything similar was such a blow to the head. 

The truth was, for someone who was completely clueless about his own identity, Neil did a good job of figuring out how a person ticked and finding a way to make them… Want to be better, or something. 

It was a complete coincidence that most of the Foxes thrived on verbal praise. The ones that didn't… Well. Neil had offered a different way to get past Andrew's guard, hadn't he? He must have known that the temptation of being allowed to beat the shit out of him would be too much for Andrew to resist. 

Unfortunately for Neil, he was wrong. Andrew couldn't care if it was his hand hitting Neil or the nearest asshole that Neil managed to piss off by being the snarky bitch he normally was. 

No. Andrew would love to spar against Neil just so he could shamelessly get more access to sweaty Neil in his mental image storage. 

Oh, what a happy place that was because Andrew was finally ready to admit, at least to himself, that he had a crush on Neil. 

But it would totally go away. Crushes were momentary things, fickle wantings of an incredible, sort of naïve heart. Andrew disliked thinking of himself as naïve, but there was literally nothing else to describe how stupid it was to get caught on feelings about a person that only existed because he’d read them into existence. 

Anyway, the important thing was that Andrew started to meet with Neil two days between classes during their week to spar and that seemed to be enough. Of course, to honor what Neil had said and to be as fair as possible, Andrew would only train together with Kevin and Neil two nights per week. 

The first time Andrew joined them, Kevin was so astonished that he didn't see the ball until it was too late and it had hit his helmet with a loud thud. Kevin turned quickly in Neil's direction, and all Neil said to him was, “Whoops.” 

It was enough to make Kevin throw a fit and to give Andrew time to get in position. When Neil just kept on ignoring Kevin's rant, looking at Andrew with a wide grin, Andrew got annoyed and hit his racquet on the ground without measuring his strength. The stick groaned in protest but Kevin finally stopped talking and paid attention to the fact that they were inside the fucking Court to play this fucking stupid game, not to gossip. 

“I can go back to my room and leave you both to find your way back by foot,” Andrew drawled out, sounding bored but still wanting to make it evident that he didn’t need to be there and would jump out at his first chance. Kevin gave Neil a last venomous look but went back to throwing his carefully mapped out balls, while Neil tried to mimic him—this time with the grin still in place. 

Andrew made sure to throw as many balls as possible straight back at Neil's legs, but that didn't make his smile disappear. Practice went on like that for the entire two hours that they trained. Andrew would never admit it but his arms were a little sore after swinging his racquet too many times with enough force to accurately and painfully inconvenience both of them. 

Even with his antagonistic antics, the practice finished with tired smiles instead of the horrible in-fighting, both verbally or physically. 

“Kevin got annoyed at me because I convinced you to train with us,” Neil informed him during their next sparring session while starfished on the ground, breathing harder than he did after his many, many daily runs. “I was supposed to wait until you wanted to train with us, or 'it wouldn’t really mean anything' or something.” 

“Does this mean I don't have to come back?” 

“Well… then who's going to beat me up?” Neil said, with an upside-down smirk at Andrew. “I mean, who's going to train me?” 

“I already told you.” 

“Oh, I have a selective memory. I only remember the things that are relevant to Exy and Exy alone.” 

“Junkie.” 

Neil made a 'hmph' noise but didn't argue. It was nice to see that, sometimes, he acted like he had a brain that cared about self-protection. 

* * *

It was a slow process but it didn't take much time till the entirety of the Exy world (or those in it that cared about the college league game and players) noticed that the Foxes had gotten a lot better without any understandable reason for it. 

They didn't start winning by scrapes, they started to play clean games and work together. Not once, but at least three times it had been said on television that they finally looked like they were a fucking sports team (without the fucking but the sentiment was loud even without the word). Some reporters tried to get the remnants of the Ravens to comment on it but they had their own problems. For the first time in their history, the Ravens weren't going to the Semi-finals. 

It wasn't that the team was bad without Riko Moriyama or Jean Moreau. It was that they were facing so much internal scrutiny, had a coach that was barely able to deal with what was basically a thoroughly traumatized team, and they had absolutely no answers to the many questions that reporters threw their way. They didn't know why Riko, Kevin, and Jean had left the lineup after the move or where they were right now (aside from Kevin. They knew where Kevin was and some of them didn’t bother to hide their fuming). They didn't know why they couldn't work like before. They didn't know enough to be able to do anything other than mimic a dying cockroach. 

And that… They did well. 

The Foxes were qualified for the semi-finals, though and that was apparently a reason to go on vacation together or something. 

“It makes sense to go somewhere when Spring Break comes around and we’ll do it like we've done everything this year: together,” said Dan the day that a filming crew appeared on campus to film the training session so the world could know “how the new Foxes were behaving during practices” and honestly, Andrew just wanted to ask if she was aware that she sounded like a self-aggrandizing life coach. 

Dan saying that prompted Nicky to look straight at Andrew right away, though. His eyes were begging but Andrew was immune to that sort of emotional response. Aaron took a bit longer to notice Nicky was staring at Andrew and, knowing him, he probably assumed that Nicky was thinking Andrew was the only element in their midst who deliberately tried to get in the way of any togetherness. 

Neil could read Andrew's impassive face well enough by now, because he turned to Dan and said, “Let's not decide anything right now, okay? We still have time. Let's go piss off the reporters doing this interview!” 

“Nope, that's something that only you like to do,” Matt said, grinning. 

“And you're not on the team, so you shouldn't be anywhere near the Court,” Seth growled and Neil smirked at him malevolently. 

“Oh, shouldn't I?” Neil said, widening his eyes to look more innocent even though he was still smirking. “Shouldn't I really?” 

Andrew heard the rest of the Foxes sigh, although they did it with an unhealthy amount of fondness. 

When the interview played on TV much later, they were all eagerly waiting to see themselves on it, which was dumb, self-absorbed, and prompted Allison to fake-sob, “I’m so happy to finally have company in my narcissistic corner!”. 

Not long after that, they all stopped waiting for them to appear and started paying attention to the interview. Renee was actually trying to hold back a smile, which meant that she had probably seen what Neil had been doing during the recordings. He would die before letting himself be caught on camera looking for Neil, so he had no idea what Neil had actually done to grant giggles. 

After a few moments, it was made evident by Boyd (who of course never let Neil slip out of his peripheral vision). He had just stood in the background of each shot for the whole interview. Lurking. Doing splits. Doing a weird little interpretative dance. Being a general nuisance. 

Andrew started to wonder if anyone in the editing room from the program noticed Neil at all before releasing the footage. Wondered if they panicked, if they wanted to find a way to cut him out of the footage or something because Neil wasn't acknowledged at all during the voice-overs or anything. 

The Foxes were watching the interview together in the room they usually did their weekly meetings and most of them were giggling by the end of it. Wymack was pressing his thumb and his pointer finger in the inner corners of his eyes, obviously frustrated. 

“Ugh,” Seth said looking at Neil with disgust that he didn't bother to hide, though Boyd looked at him with a scowl. “You're a fucking asshole.” 

“Why, Seth? Because I obviously stole your shot with that spacat—” 

Seth growled but didn't dignify that with a proper reply. 

The world was probably going to take the Foxes a little more seriously now, even with Neil’s goofing off. However, the team was being loud and not properly appreciating their moment, so it didn't take long for Wymack to let them all go with a frustrated bark that made Neil subtly uncomfortable. 

But Andrew knew that Neil was happy. That dumb boy couldn’t tell a joke because he was a joke, and that was what Andrew decided to believe. 

* * *

Wymack received a call the next day, asking to interview the new Fox player. 

He said, “He isn't _a new Fox_ anything other than a minor who is in a lot of trouble!” and then hung up the phone. 

That boy when out of his runaway protective cloak was _chaos walking_ and nothing more. Wymack was surely bound to have much more pressing trouble with him in the future than a stupid kid acting dumb on TV, so he ought to count his blessings now or something. 

When he saw Neil with his Foxes though, and how most of them laughed and kept replaying their favorite moments on TV, Wymack couldn’t even scold Neil. 

It was undoubtedly good to see him acting like a person who could be silly or act like the young person he was. 

In the end, even though Wymack thought he should’ve been more stern with him, all he said to Neil was, “There’s still time to search for a circus if you want to be a clown.” 

“Nah,” Neil answered, smirking with a clear _happy_ glint in his eyes. “I’d rather be a Fox, even an honorary one. You guys are athlete clowns, after all.” 

* * *

The roof was Andrew's favorite quiet place to feel, usually fear. 

Today he also felt annoyance at having his privacy be invaded by fucking Neil. 

“Oh, it's chilly up here,” Neil commented, shivering. 

“Go away, then.” 

“No, I need to talk to you about our joined vacation plans.” Neil sat down a good amount of distance away from Andrew, which was annoying. To be fair, everything he did or didn't do was annoying to Andrew. He had one of those personalities capable of eliciting the same emotional response in different individuals. Also, Andrew had a crush on him and all he wanted was for him to stop being so… in his face. All the goddamn time. 

Andrew had a theory that it was totally deliberate how Neil just kept himself quiet for at least fifteen minutes. Enough time for Andrew to fish a cigarette from his pocket and light it up. Neil watched the tendrils of smoke for a long time while Andrew refused to break the silence. He'd been fine without Neil and he would pretend Neil didn't exist even if he was near. 

“You know, you are sort of the leader of your little group,” Neil commented in a low voice. Andrew's little finger twitched, not expecting his voice, but it was such a minor movement that Neil didn't even seem to notice it. “Not really because they see the value in where you're guiding them, at least not consciously. Kevin follows you because he seems to hope that that'll be enough to make you care about Exy like he wants you to, without working on ways to make you appreciate the sport in our own way, or doing anything to actually change your mind. Aaron follows you because… Honestly, I don't know. Aaron doesn't have a lot of backbone to decide things for himself. Nicky follows you because he's afraid.” 

“Machiavellian conclusion,” Andrew commented, blowing his smoke in Neil's face. Instead of leaning away like Andrew expected him to, the annoying fuck leaned in to breathe the smoke in. “You seem to have us all figured out. Congratulations.” 

“The thing is,” Neil continued as if Andrew hadn't spoken. “When you don't give them a solid reason to actually follow you around, that creates a burden in your relationship. When you prevent them from bonding or forming interactions, that creates another burden. These things pile up, y'know. You go to therapy once a week, you should know that's not healthy. But then again, I have seen you eat. I know being healthy isn't exactly your top priority.” 

“Is there a point to this?” Andrew asked taking a drag. “Or is this your love session to hear the sound of your own voice?” 

“What can I say, I sound really cool,” Neil said in a deadpanned voice. “However, what I'm trying to say is, you can't keep them on a leash as if they were your pets. Humans aren't exactly a domesticated species. You're gonna make them turn on you.” 

Andrew didn't answer, just kept smoking until he was able to feel the heat of the tip a little too close to his lips, almost burning his fingers. 

“Let them come with us on this vacation,” Neil continued almost in a whisper. “If you want to, or if you're unable to face that much time away from them, come with us. After, you can decide what you want in return.” 

“That's a lot of trust you're putting in someone to decide what they can do to you. Especially someone who you accused of acting Machiavellian.” 

“I didn't say that, you did,” Neil said, getting up and cleaning his hands on his pants. “Just… think about my offer.” 

And left. 

* * *

Jean wished he was not around the main branch at such a time; their leader was so obviously dying and most people were extremely stressed about it. 

Kengo's health had gotten steadily worse without even a single day of reprieve. The atmosphere was heavy everywhere you went and Jean got called out less and less each day to read insignificant stuff out of books. It came to the point where Jean started to dread being called to go out again to read anything a feverish dying man had dreamed about that day. Jean’s bedroom had become even more of a sanctuary for him, not only because it wasn’t populated by the same heavy cloud of anticipation and preparations for grief but also because then he could do whatever the fuck he wanted. 

Of course, that meant that Jean spent a lot of time watching TV and just… existing, without thinking about his purpose in life or when it would all be over for him (until he eventually remembered that, technically, that didn’t need to be a constant worry for him anymore). He could sit there and vegetate in front of Jeopardy! or any other television show, especially the ones that required less of his brain. 

Like a proper American, or something like it. 

That much exposure to TV had the added benefit of desensitizing him for the pain of seeing Exy without being able to play (or to think about how his body was probably losing all its potential due to lack of training, even though Jean tried to do his best at the gym the Moriyamas had installed in their home). It came to the point where he could even see a PSU Foxes game without automatically searching for Kevin's shirt and wishing he was there, on his team or as his adversary. 

The game he was currently watching was a replay of the same game he'd seen last time. 

This time though, he didn't turn the TV off when the final buzz came. Like a proper American, he’d kind of left his TV remote a bit too far away and couldn’t muster enough energy to get it. So he kept watching the screen, long enough to see the rest of the laughably small team invade the Court to celebrate. 

Including the red-headed boy without a uniform one. 

A red-headed boy that was suddenly on full wide-screen as they did a close up on the players and their fierce smiles. 

A red-headed boy with one cheek texturized by thick circular scars and the other had multiple slashed scars. 

A red-headed boy that Jean had stared at a lot, thanks to a particular book cover. 

It finally made sense why Nathan thought that his son was in this world after all. Either the Foxes had a Silvertongue amongst them (unlikely) or this guy had been Karana Vicos' inspiration while creating the character. Or maybe the model for the designer who came up with the cover. 

Those were all speculations, obviously. They could be nothing and result in nothing. 

Still, Jean got out of bed and went after anyone who could tell someone important about what he'd seen on TV. Just in case it wasn’t nothing. 

* * *

The next day, when the Foxes organized themselves to go eat brunch at a restaurant together to decide where they'd all go for their Spring Break joint vacations, Andrew appeared not at all subtly with the rest of his group, intently ignoring Renee's smile or the general staring of disbelief from the others. It was his silent way of agreeing to this nonsense, even though Kevin grumbled about training and Aaron couldn’t be parted from his phone, texting incessantly. At least Nicky was excited about it. 

Also, probably Neil. Or at least Andrew thought so, if Neil's smirk was anything to go by. It was also the thing that made Andrew want to just… punch Neil’s mouth and then go back to ignoring. 

Although some of them clearly wanted to open their mouth and ask, Seth was the only one to actually grumble something in disgust, although not at all loudly. Andrew ignored him but started to play with the smallest knife from his sheaths. It didn't take long for the rest of them to get with the program and head off to the diner. 

They had to drag a couple of tables to fit them all together and deciding what they were going to eat from the menu was enough to make them descended into chaos. Everyone was talking over one another about what they could do or eat, where they could go or how much alcohol to buy and how much of a budget they had to spend (this one was loudly taken over by Allison announcing that she could totally pay for their accommodations). 

It was too much for someone who was used to containing all his chaos on the inside. Andrew clenched his teeth, avoided eye contact and tried not let how overwhelmed he was with everything show. 

A light kick at his shins made him look up to where Neil had sat in front of him, a slight frown on his face, clearly from worry. Andrew couldn't keep the scowl from showing on his own face but that only made Neil grin. 

_You okay?_, Neil mouthed nonetheless. 

_Go fuck yourself_, Andrew mouthed back before finally seeing his stack of pancakes coming, which were promptly drowned in a sea of syrup. 

Andrew was finally able to tune out the conversation as he ate, sighing at his hard-won peace and also sugar rush. That was how he missed the discussion that determined they were all going to stay at a cabin in the mountains. Allison's phone decided to ring right there; it was her parents’ travel agent, with the news that they now had a specific place to stay at Blue Ridge. Andrew felt another kick at his legs and this time he kicked Neil back but harder than he'd been kicked. Neil winced but shut the fuck up. 

_It will be fun_, his eyes seemed to say anyway. 

To that, Andrew simply showed him his middle finger. 

* * *

The cabin was what Andrew expected it would be: uninteresting and also boring. He had much less space to run away from his teammates, so it was a good thing he'd made a detour on the way to buy alcohol. Lots of alcohol. 

Neil had come with him and seemed to be worried about something when Andrew upended the clothes he'd brought to wrap around the glass bottles. He stared at Andrew’s bag for a long time but didn’t say anything. Andrew didn’t bother to make him clarify his thoughts, just made Nicky go buy all the bottles he could fit in the bag, wrapped up in Andrew’s sweaters. 

The problem was that when they'd gotten to their cabin, the others had already arrived and had roughly distributed the bedrooms between themselves. Allison and Seth got the downstairs master bedroom with a single bed, because she was paying for everything. Matt and Dan had taken one of the four bedrooms, and Renee had taken another one to be shared with someone. It was quickly decided that Nicky would sleep with her, Aaron and Kevin would sleep together, and Andrew and Neil… 

Well. 

Andrew didn't care about whatever division they decided to do. If he could not keep a physical eye on his group, he was going to change his sleeping habits so he could at least be closer to where he could see everybody and know they were going to be safe. It was paranoid but that was what Andrew was. Sometimes, at least. 

Neil didn't seem bothered about sharing a room with Andrew, even though the other Foxes seemed to be sending him worried glances. 

It didn't take long for them to stop though and started partying and drinking and being the irresponsible athletes that they deserved to be, at least for a few days. Andrew watched them from relatively far away, Neil talking to him the whole time while Andrew silently drank his whiskey. Neil ignored the cup Andrew had poured for him and eventually Andrew drank it himself. 

The night was rowdy, as expected, but not long after they started to fall asleep wherever they were or trail sloppily back to their own bedrooms, Renee helping the drunkest of them up the stairs. 

Eventually, it was only Andrew and Neil downstairs. Neil had finally shut up and seemed to be content with watching the sky with a pensive face. Andrew patted his pocket and got his pack of cigarettes out, lighting one quickly and taking a long drag out of it. 

Neil asked for the cigarette with two silent fingers and Andrew carefully passed it to him, also wordlessly. 

“I'm glad you came, Andrew,” Neil said. Andrew didn't even look at him, just waited for him to pass his cigarette back. “I know you don't really care about any of this, but… I'm glad you read me out. I'm glad you exist so that I could exist here.” 

Andrew finally dignified him with a look, just to make sure that Neil was actually speaking shit like that while sober. “The fuck did you drink?” 

Neil waved that away with a dismissive hand gesture. “You know I didn't drink anything. What I'm trying to say is… I know this isn't exactly what you feel comfortable doing but I'm happy that you did it. Even if you just did the usual silent brooding thing you always do. At least you didn't force the others to stick by your side. Having the team working together is… a good thing for the future of their careers.” 

The game. It was always about the fucking game. 

“I hope you know that I couldn't give less of a fuck about the game.” 

“Oh, I know you don't,” Neil reassured him with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “But you care about having a family and right now… There's one here for you. You just gotta take a step to actually join it.” 

“If you're gonna be soppy, at least drink so you can blame it on the alcohol.” 

“I don't want to drink in case I…” Neil trailed off, uncertainty tainting his voice. 

“In case you, what? Lose control of your fake accent?” Andrew put out his cigarette on the sole of his shoes and turned to look at Neil. “I already know it's fake and there's nobody else here.” 

“First, my accent is not fake,” Neil said frowning slightly. “My mom and my uncle were British, and I grew up mostly with her so I was influenced. Secondly, they could wake up. I don't want to do anything that could expose your secret.” 

“You are a terrible liar, sometimes.” 

“Or you just got so used to my presence that now you can tell when I'm lying and when I'm not,” Neil said and then blanched. “That's not a good scenario.” 

“Afraid of being known?” Andrew asked. 

“Afraid of not being able to decide what's private and what's not.” 

Andrew scoffed. “Too late. I've read your life, remember?” 

“And now you know everything about me,” Neil gulped, visibly uncomfortable with that. 

Andrew looked at him until Neil started to squirm restlessly. It would be stupid to pity him because he didn't have control of this minor thing in his life when Andrew wasn't exactly guilty about how he came to know everything about him. Well, mostly everything. Andrew could've just not read the book when Neil gave it back to him but Andrew wanted to know how he died. How his story was supposed to end. What Andrew had saved Neil from. 

And also, he wanted to know if there was anything that could lessen this crush of his. 

There was nothing. Neil’s life was a tragedy after tragedy, but what made Andrew realize that there was nothing he could do to stop these fucking feelings was when he read about how Neil felt about himself. In the book, there was a passage where Neil said how much of a nothing he was, and how tired it made him. There was nothing he lived for. He was just trying to survive tragedy after tragedy of stuff that was absolutely out of his control. 

Andrew saw Neil as what he could’ve become. What if someone had taken him away from one of his many foster houses? What if he’d started to run, always worried about running into any of the monsters from his past… what would he have become? A runaway, a nobody like Neil? 

It was with a deep understanding of what it was like to not be in control of his own narrative that Andrew opened his mouth and said, “I'm gay.” 

“What?” asked Neil, putting a hand on his neck as if that would help to muffle the loud _CRACK _his neck had produced at being turned so quickly. 

“You said I know everything about you,” Andrew took the last drag of his cigarette and then threw the butt on the ground, like an asshole who didn’t care about littering. “Now you know something that almost nobody knows about me.” 

Neil looked at him in silence. Andrew could almost hear Neil’s heart beating loudly. It didn’t matter how many minutes it had passed, Andrew simply didn’t look away from Neil. He watched emotions fly across Neil’s eyes, too quick to decipher them, but they all morphed into one single sentiment: gratitude. 

“Thank you,” Neil said, with his heart and his mouth, and Andrew couldn’t stop staring at his lips. 

He didn’t say anything, though. 

* * *

Neil couldn't believe this was happening to him. 

He'd gone to bed feeling positively springy and light. Sleep was for once uneventful and dream (or nightmare) free, he woke up early before sunrise, and didn't even startle at the unfamiliar bedroom. 

Andrew was sleeping soundly on the single bed beside him, so Neil thoughtfully tried to be quiet as he left the room with his running gear in hand, so he would absolutely not wake Andrew up. Even if he tried to feel confident in his silent skills, he knew it was probably futile. Andrew slept lightly and was known for being a grump in the mornings. 

When Andrew grunted then, Neil looked at him guiltily and muttered, “My bad, I’m going now” before picking up his pace out of the bedroom and into the upstairs bathroom. Not even five minutes later he was outside, running through a trail that was lit gingerly by the upcoming sunrise. 

It was different from the runs Neil had already experienced in his few years of life and that was what he'd blame his misfortune on. If his mother was still around, she would've cursed him for his stupidity, not for his misfortune but she wasn’t here and she would’ve been too late. 

All the warning Neil got was the quiet rustle of the foliage before something jumped on his path, making him stop suddenly and almost fall on his back. He was going to start cursing Allison and her choice to bring them to the wilderness before being killed by whatever wild animal it was when a pair of strong arms wrapped him from behind, one hand snaking up to cover his mouth. 

“Hell-o, Junior.” 

Neil's heart almost launched out of his chest with how hard it started to beat when Lola came walking around the same foliage that her brother had jumped from. 

Neil couldn't think. His brain was still trying to catch up to the desperation that his heart started to feel. He didn't ask himself How, or Why or anything stupid like that. Not even more complicated questions like “Who did this?” or “Why me?”. It was incredible how the healing that he'd gotten from the Foxes, from his friends, was so thoroughly crushed by the despair and hopelessness that he was starting to feel—and, since both of those feelings were familiar to him, they didn’t have a hard time making him forget what it was like to hope he would live. To hope that help would come. 

At least Neil knew he wouldn’t die without making an impact. Some people would miss him. 

It was also startlingly easy to feel Neil and all that made him real wither and die inside of him, leaving the scared Nathaniel in his place—who apparently had never died, like Neil had hoped for desperately. 

Nathaniel tried to struggle out of the hold but it was hopeless and he knew it. Lola was already smiling like she'd gotten the canary and was imagining eating it whole. 

They dragged him to their car, just like they'd done once before. 

They put him in the trunk, just like they'd done once before, and Lola's giggled, “Déjà-vu is the real shit huh” made something come alive inside of him. He elbowed her, hard, and she snarled as she cut off his air supply so quickly that Nathaniel couldn't even gulp the last breath. 

The sound of his wheezing was too loud and the subtle buzzing that had started in his ears was enough that he just couldn't worry about the spots that were appearing in his vision. He had to worry about all of it but at the same time, he didn’t have enough time to worry about anything. 

_Please, kill me here_, Nathaniel begged in his head, hoping hard for it even as his brain launched images of his friends to the front of his thoughts. Nathaniel didn't want to be taken anywhere by them, again but he also abhorred the thought of more pain. _Just do it by accident, please, please!_

There was no one to hear him or grant him his wishes. Nathaniel knew he was close to passing out when Lola released him. His gasping was enough to mask the sound of Lola reaching for the formaldehyde and the cloth. 

Nathaniel didn't have a choice about breathing it or not. He'd just been strangled and his lungs were still drinking up as much oxygen as they could. 

Lola's voice was just as nasally as he remembered from the first time, even though the words were different. 

“We didn't want to make the experience any different,” Lola said. 

Nathaniel wanted to remind her that she had not burned his face again right away. She hadn't tied thin, bloody ribbons down his arms, she hadn't even told him how he was going to die. He wanted to point out that she had failed to replicate his first proper torture, and he wanted to do it, gleefully, even if he would painfully pay for it. 

He just passed out instead. 

* * *

The first time Andrew woke up was to the sound of the spring on Neil's bed groaning lightly as he got up way too fucking early and started to fumble around for his running gear. 

Andrew knew he was trying to be quiet but he still grunted grumpily when Neil accidentally hit his shoes on the wooden dresser they had. 

The mumbled apologies were the second thing he heard and he took less than ten minutes to go back to sleep. If Hamtaro wanted to go outside and run before the sun was even properly out, that was his problem. Andrew was going to appreciate his bed a little more. 

Little more was code for two hours and a half hours apparently, or also “enough time to start having a 'nightmare', that was actually a memory in vivid detail” before he made himself wake up. His breathing stuttered twice before he reigned his control again. 

Andrew laid there for a few seconds and then growled as his mind tried to complete the memory. Instead of letting himself get tangled in it, Andrew got up and went downstairs. 

Kevin was the only other person in the kitchen, nursing a coffee cup like it was his savior. Andrew was just glad that he wouldn't have to make coffee himself and shamelessly filled a cup with countless spoonfuls of sugar. 

Well, countless for him. 

“Six spoons, Andrew?” Kevin said, voice still deep from sleep but the disgust loud and clear. “Are you trying to—” 

“Have a good morning,” Andrew interrupted him and loudly slurped to muffle Kevin's next useless arguments. “Now shut up before I throw this coffee at you. Some might even go inside your mouth, the horror!” 

Kevin did shut up but he kept throwing daggers at Andrew's cup. Andrew ignored him, watching the kitchen clock slip further along after 9 a.m., and still nobody else seemed awake like them. 

When Andrew finished his cup, he got up to fill it once again, putting the same amount of sugar. He could almost hear Kevin grinding his teeth but Renee chose then to appear in the doorway, making as little noise as a ghost, hair in a little disarray but otherwise looking too much like a human. 

“Good morning,” she said and was unbothered by the lack of reply. “Nobody else woke up yet?” 

“Neil went out running,” Andrew answered and sipped again. Renee just nodded and they went back to silence until the other Foxes started to wake up, ruining their peace. 

Even though Andrew wanted to grit his teeth and just start twirling his knife to hopefully get their (hangover) noises to acceptable levels, Andrew just went to the little chair on the outside porch with a new mug of coffee. His heart would probably start to complain in about fifteen seconds, but Andrew didn't fucking care. He was going to have a good morning and, for that, he was going to fill himself up with as many cups of coffee as he wanted. 

Of course, when he moved outside, some of them followed. Andrew tried to filter their chatter out but it was impossible. That was how he knew that everybody was just waiting on Neil to come back so that they could all go have breakfast together. 

Aaron was loudly against that but he was also too chickenshit to go alone so he waited. 

They all waited. 

Kevin was on his phone, probably watching Exy or reading about Exy. Nicky was barely awake, so at least from him there was only silence. Boyd, Wilds, Gordon, Reynolds, and Renee were off to the side, talking and laughing annoyingly and Aaron was, obviously, sulking. 

After a few more moments of waiting, the chatter started to die and the silence would only be occasionally broken by loud rumbly noises from hungry stomachs. Still, nobody dares to suggest that they go ahead without Neil. However, they were starting to get concerned about where the fuck Neil was. 

“He's probably there, already eating all the fruit like the fucking weirdo that he is,” Aaron whined. 

“Nah, he wouldn't do that,” Boyd argued. “He doesn't go anywhere without drinking a liter of water after his runs!” 

“Well, where the fuck is he, then?” Seth growled, impatient. “I'm fucking hungry and we only have, like, another hour before they start to serve lunch instead of breakfast.” 

Dan started to say something but Kevin gasped and everybody turned to look towards him. His eyes were glued to his phone still but his face was now petrified in a horrific expression. 

“The fuck is wrong with him,” Seth grumbled at the same time that Wilds asked, “What's wrong, Kevin?” 

Kevin didn't answer any of them. He was still watching his phone like it was going to come alive and attack him at any second now. Andrew thought that he'd probably been triggered by something Exy-related on the news that he'd been reading, or even news about Riko but when Wilds actually took a step to get closer to him, Kevin looked up at her for a millisecond before turning to look at Andrew. 

Andrew didn't know what was wrong but he certainly could guess from Kevin's face. It was still the same, but now his eyes were starting to get an apologetic gleam. 

“Andrew…” Kevin said in a soft whisper. “Jean read Wesninski out.” 

Andrew instantly blanched and the others had turned to look at him, obviously confused by Kevin's word and searching for answers on Andrew's face. But besides that first reaction, Andrew had nothing to give them. 

Nothing, Neil said in the back of his head and Andrew's voice echoed him. I'm nothing. 

“He read him months ago,” Kevin continued still in that soft voice. Kevin's phone vibrated and he started to go pale as a sheet. “Fuck, not just him. He read everybody out.” 

“What are you talking about?” Nicky asked, confused. Kevin looked at him briefly and then turned to Andrew. All the others followed his lead and turned to Andrew too, who was more worried about all the different thoughts his brain was trying to get him to think. The main one being, _He was a pipe dream after all._

He took a deep breath. “Call Wymack,” Andrew said and got up to go inside to put his clothes in his bag and get ready to move anywhere. Also, to get a certain book. He stopped at the doorway to the kitchen and said with his back still to all of them, “Tell the whole story.” 

And then he went inside, letting the door close behind him with a fatalistic thud. He didn't care about what Kevin told them but he was probably going to need the book to convince them. 

Andrew took a deep breath. He knew this was going to be a few long hours. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inform me if i need to tag or warn against anything!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil is tortured in this chapter! I tried not to be too explicit!!!!

When Andrew came back out with the book, the Foxes were in varying degrees of the grieving process. Some of them were throwing looks at Andrew that made it clear that they were thinking about what his speech could do. Others didn't even look at him, more worried about frantically fighting over calling the police or not. Some were also loudly saying that it was all a fucking lie. 

All of them stopped to look at the book he was carrying when he raised it up, reacting mostly with shock at seeing Neil's face on it. 

Wilds was the one who had the most worried expression as she talked on her phone, probably to Wymack. It'd still take a few hours for him to reach their cabin and they had to decide who they were going to call—the police, the FBI or nobody at all. 

Neil had forged documents but it was still risky to call the police or the FBI. Whilst most of them were discussing their options—in a low voice, with sorrowful expressions that belonged in a hospital waiting room—Seth was off to the side, sneering and obviously uninterested in the outcome and Aaron… 

Approached Andrew. With an antagonistic face. 

Andrew almost snorted at how predictable his brother was. 

“Nice of you to inform us that you're a freak in another new way,” Aaron smiled wryly. “Were you planning on actually telling us?” 

“No,” Andrew answered honestly, which seemed to startle Aaron for a second. “Why would I? It's none of your business.” 

“You can read _people_ out of books and you think that it isn't important information to tell your family?” he spat out the last word and got his snarling mouth too close to Andrew's personal bubble. Andrew thought about punching him just once but he controlled himself. “We know you don't care about us, but _fucking hell_ Andrew, at least—” 

“Shut up,” Andrew's voice was ice and Aaron's lip froze in obedience. “You are boring and completely out of your place. Let me make something clear to you, dear brother: I owe you nothing. And you were very interested in keeping our knowledge of each other's life limited until Now. Get the fuck down off your high horse because the fact that we shared a womb gives you _no dibs _on whatever I decide to share about myself.” 

Aaron opened his mouth, his eyes flashing with his bad mood but Andrew was quicker and didn't even have to raise his voice above a low murmur. “What's the problem? Are you envious? Or afraid that you may read a passage of a book and discover you're a freak like me?” Andrew got even closer to him and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Or maybe worried that you're not?” 

The satisfaction of making Aaron march away from him, shaking in anger was short-lived. Kevin finally decided to come near him with worry all over his face, but also something close to hope. Like Andrew would be able to solve all the problems in his life. 

“Jean just sent me a message,” he said in a shaky voice. “He said the Moriyamas aren’t planning on doing anything for now.” 

“Why would they?” Andrew said in a deadly calm voice. “Neil is not their concern. They just need to decide what's going to happen to Wesninski and his people for their clear defiance.” 

“How are you so calm about this?” 

Andrew shrugged. “Nothing I can do,” even though he'd give a lot to be able to do _something._

“I mean… there is something you can do.” Kevin's voice was loud enough to get the attention of the others. Dan had already hung up by them and Andrew saw her approach Kevin with quick steps. 

“_No more secrets_,” Dan said in a haughty, superior voice. “Share your ideas with the entire class.” 

Kevin looked at Andrew, clearly searching for permission. Andrew gave nothing back. 

“Jean told me how you can read people back into their books,” Kevin told them and he was sounding like all their problems had been solved. “You can read Neil back to his book and since his father isn't there anymore, he won't die!” 

“Die???” Boyd clutched his chest, horrified. 

“Neil didn't want to go back to his story,” Renee reminded Kevin in a soft voice. 

“Not even if it would save him from… torture?” Kevin demanded and they all knew that he was actually going to say dying, or maybe being murdered. 

“There's no guarantee that I would be able to send him back. We don't know if I'm as powerful as Jean. We also wouldn't have any way of knowing if worked at all,” Andrew said and caught everybody's attention in seconds when he finished with, “There's another way.” 

Andrew got up and snatched the book from Nicky's hand, who had been turning the book over and over without opening it. He knew exactly which page he wanted and he could definitely remember all the words but just in case he needed to actually be looking at it for it to work, he flipped through pages and pages until he was at the right place. 

Agent Browning was fully described only once but it would probably be enough. Andrew started to read and everything got even quieter around him. His voice wasn't loud and it definitely wasn't enough to mask the rough, “Where the fuck am I?” when Browning appeared in the middle of the cabin's living room. 

Andrew closed the book and turned serious eyes towards Browning. 

“We know where Wesninski is,” Andrew told him. 

Browning closed his gaping mouth, squinted at Andrew with suspicion but said, “I'm listening.” 

So Andrew told him what was happening. 

* * *

Nathaniel came back to the land of the living when they were already in the basement. _Another difference_, he thought, remembering how the law system was even more corrupt in his own story, trying not to feel sorry for himself for counting his blessings miserably. 

Unlike last time, he was firmly bound to his chair. Well, at least he wouldn't have to relive the minor inconvenience of washing his wounds this time, since apparently there were none. 

Like the last time, Lola was waiting for him to wake up, straddling her chair backwards and looking at Nathaniel with an unsmiling face. Right beside her was Nathan, with all his tall and menacing posturing. Another difference from Nathaniel's first experience with torture but this one much less welcome. 

A phone started to ring, so subtly that Nathaniel didn't notice until his father got it out of his pocket and stared at it. For a few moments, it looked like Nathan wasn't going to pick it up. He let the phone ring long enough that Nathaniel knew it was almost too late when Nathan gave one indecipherable look towards Nathaniel and didn't even say “Hello” after tapping his screen a few times. 

“Wesninski,” came a smooth voice through the speakerphone. “You took your time picking up the phone.” 

Nathan looked at Nathaniel. “I was busy.” 

“So I've heard.” The voice was almost dispassionate in its tone but it still made the hairs on the back of Nathaniel's neck stand up. “Nathaniel Wesninski.” 

Nathan visibly reacted to the name, and Lola too—both of them turning towards the phone with interested faces. “What about him?” Nathan prompted, obviously trying not to frown. 

“Your son. Or maybe I should say your miniature,” the voice sounded faintly amused. “But maybe he's not so small. TV tends to mess with people's proportions, or so I'm told.” 

“Nathaniel appeared on TV?” Nathan respectful voice sounded believable but even Nathaniel could hear then faint, unmistakable scoff present in it, that didn't let him believe in his father's deference towards the man even for a second. “That's news to me, Lord Moriyama.” 

Nathaniel jolted at the name, calling Lola's attention back to him. Lola looked back at Nathan, pointed at Nathaniel and received an imperceptible nod in response. Lola smiled blandly and went up the stairs, coming back in a few seconds with an ax, a cleaver and… oh fuck. Were those a bunch of different sized scalpels and a torch? Nathaniel’s stomach dropped when he noticed that his father might be planning to skin him alive. 

“Wesninski, I feel like I have to remind you,” Moriyama's voice was calm but its deadly undertones were louder than Nathaniel's frantic heartbeat. “We brought you here, to this world, and saved you from an early death. We can get rid of you without any problems.” 

“Yes, I'm aware of that,” Nathan got up and approached his weapons. “But I'm assuming you can only get rid of us the same way you brought us over so… one per week only? That's plenty of time to do what I really want to.” 

Then Nathan pressed a button on his phone and waited with it in his hands. It didn't ring again. 

“Well…” Nathan said and Nathaniel heard more people coming down the steps to the basement. He wanted to turn to look at who it was, badly, but he couldn't move much, no matter how much he fidgeted. “Time to have fun with you. Again.” 

In the imaginative realm of things, his father was lacking. A lot. They didn’t change much of his first injuries from a few months ago—Nathaniel finally understood why he was bound to a chair: it was to mimic being tied to a car seat. This time it wasn’t Lola behind him, but his father, telling him each time that Nathaniel had been a disappointment. 

Hearing his father’s voice, unbodied and calling him by _that_ made _Neil _angry, deep down inside but potent enough to make him surface, getting rid of the farce of a person he was when anyone called him by _that_. He wasn’t _fucking Nathaniel _and he sure as fuck wasn’t Nathan’s _fucking son._

So Neil raised his head, a bit light-headed from the pain and from wasting too much oxygen on screaming. He couldn’t look at his father, but he could look at his people. _Neil_ smiled at them and knew who his mouth was copying. 

“I’m not yours and I never was,” Neil told Nathan hoarsely, unbothered by the fact that he would suffer the consequences of his pride very soon. “Your disappointments are nothing but you grieving for what was never yours and never will be. You might punish me for the crimes you think I committed but _nothing _you do will bring back the pride you seem to have lost. So, _fuck you._” 

There was a long period of silence following his statement. To be honest, Neil was surprised he had been allowed to speak for as long as he did. 

Nathan’s people were looking up at him, waiting for orders on how he was going to deal with this _arrogance_. Lola especially seemed to be trembling with the need to _act_. 

“Lola,” Nathan said, voice as cold as the Arctic that lived in his gaze. “Bring me the scalpels.” 

_Once again, changing how the script goes, huh_, Neil thought, and laughed when his father started to peel back the skin of his arm, from the elbow down (“Because you’ll bleed profusely before I even start with the detail work needed for your hand”), cauterizing the wounds every so often, probably just to cause more pain. 

Neil started to scream and laugh at the same time. 

He felt like he was going insane. He felt like he was nothing but a big bubble of pain and the feeling of heat and the faint grief for his _hands_, they were going to destroy _his hands_, he’d never play _again—_

More screams. More laughter. 

The laughter came from him, but the screams _didn’t_. 

When Neil finally connected back to reality, he was surrounded by people with guns. His father’s people were falling one by one, none of them wearing anythingthat could protect them from bullets. 

Neil laughed again and choked on his own bile. 

He didn’t see Nathan falling to the ground too, but knew he did. Nathan would’ve never allowed anyone close enough to unbound Neil from the chair, let alone the paramedics that were brought to take him away. 

In a moment of clarity, Neil started to scream, “Call Wymack! David Wymack! PSU Foxes’ Coach! Call him!”, and kept repeating that until a prick in his arm made him go under to a place of no pain. 

He hoped they would do as they said. 

But in the end, he didn’t worry much about his future. Just let the darkness take him down. 

* * *

They were already on the road when Wymack's phone rang. Abby got the call for him, and silently put it on speakerphone. 

“Wymack speaking.” 

“David Wymack, we have a situation,” a dull male voice said. “I'm Special Agent Towns and we have someone in our custody who claims to be your responsibility.” 

“A small, red-headed, scarred, mouthy little shit?” Wymack asked in a dry tone. “If they don't fit the description, throw them in the trash.” 

There was a beat of silence before the agent continued. “Neil Josten claims that he had been staying with you in the past few months. This is the call he asked to be made for him before the hospital staff was able to subdue him.” 

Wymack's breath was a little unstable coming out but his voice didn't show it. “Is he okay?” 

“We need you to come here so we can get your statement. Or we can arrange someone to take it in South Carolina if you prefer…” 

“There's no need, we are already on our way to Baltimore,” Wymack informed him. “Just give me the address.” 

“I never said where you needed to go.” The voice was no longer dull; it was dripping suspicious like an ice-cream in the summer. 

“The moment we noticed he'd disappeared, we knew where he'd be taken,” Wymack said in a gruff voice and ignored all the following questions until the agent relented and gave him an address. 

“We'll talk about it when you get here,” the voice promised. “Oh, and also: bring him a change of clothes,” and then the call ended. 

Abby put his phone back on the dashboard and Wymack quickly looked at her after feeling the weight of her gaze for a few seconds. 

She looked worried. Wymack took his hand from the gear to pat her knee reassuringly, but he didn't bother to lie by saying Neil was fine. He probably wasn't. 

However, Wymack could guarantee that he'd be fine _eventually_. 

It was the nature of the universe, after all: after chaos, it realigns into order. 

* * *

Neil woke up groggy with an incredibly dry mouth. That was what told him he'd been sedated, which coupled with the constant beeping and the faint ache in his arm probably from an IV drip told him he was also in a hospital. 

Finding out he was _handcuffed _to the bed was a surprise though. When he was finally able to pry his own eyes open, the tall man glaring down at him was also a surprise. 

“Good morning,” Neil croaked. “Fancy getting me out of this shite?” 

“Drop the fake accent, Wesninski,” a voice near the door drawled and Neil winced, not just because of what he'd been called but also because his rapid movement made him touch his cheek to his pillow, which upset his wounds. “Also, it's the afternoon now.” 

“Well, how was I supposed to know that?” Neil said still in his British accent, making a show of trying to look at his bound wrist. “Looks like I've misplaced my watch.” 

The guy Neil had seen first ground his teeth in a way that looked painful. Neil smiled placidly towards him but didn't try to goad anyone again. He was, after all, very much unable to move far away from them if he went too far. 

There was a knock on the door and the Agent near it opened it just a sliver, positioning himself in a way that made it impossible for Neil to see who was on the other side. After a long hushed discussion, the guy turned and said, “Let's get coffee, Towns.” 

Frowny Agent clearly didn't want to move but after a few seconds, he finally turned towards the door and walked at a snail's pace. 

“Could you bring me a cup of water as well, love? My throat is unbelievably dry,” Neil said in a sweet voice and got another glare for his trouble. “Thank you!” 

Neil expected the door to bang shut as both of them left the room but neither of them even touched the handle. A few seconds after they disappeared from view, Neil understood why. 

There was a very unassuming fed occupying the doorway now, eyes scanning Neil from head to toe. His eyes didn't pause on the handcuffs but the bandages… those were cataloged with interest. 

“Can I help you?” Neil barked, annoyed at himself for getting worked up just from being stared at. He was gonna have to learn how to deal with people staring even more now. 

“In a way,” the Agent said and closed the door. “I am Special Agents Browning.” Neil couldn’t help but react to it and Browning gave a tight-lipped smile. “I was in my office, trying to figure out _why _Wesninski and his crew had suddenly _stopped _showing their faces around and what they were up to when I was suddenly inside a house circled by college students as if I had been a demon, summoned. I was also far away from my Baltimore in every sense of the phrase.” 

“Ah,” Neil said, blinking. “Someone read you out too.” 

“Yes,” Browning approached Neil and took a pair of keys from his pocket, fiddling with Neil's handcuffs until he was freed. “You know, it's not nice to know that I'm not exactly real.” 

“Oh, but being 'real' is rather subjective,” Neil commented, bending his fingers to reassure himself he was still able to move them and relishing on the burning feeling in his knuckles. “Also, who’s to say this isn’t the fake world? It might be a very vivid hallucination.” 

“You believe that?” Browning asked. 

“No,” Neil answered. “But then again, I was just happy to be a whole reality away from my father, instead of worrying about being real or not. I haven’t been real for a long time, so…” Neil shrugged and didn’t feel even a little bothered by the clear pity in the Agent’s eyes. It wasn’t necessary to share that a group of people had been recently teaching him how to be actually _real_. “How did you know where to find me though?” 

“Let me tell you, it was hard. Not finding you, because strangely all the numbers that work in our world also work here, so I was able to call the FBI office that was closest to Baltimore. They had been investigating the new people who’d taken over the crime scene there, but had no actual clue on where they’d come from. I told them my credentials, which aren’t in their system but I told them I was from a classified division. They couldn’t verify it, of course, but at least they sent people to check on the bugs they planted in Wesninski’s home and heard you screaming. That was enough to convince them to act.” 

Neil smiled humorlessly. “Good to be of service.” 

Browning nodded minutely and after a moment of silence, continued speaking. “We called your Coach like you asked. They are on the road and should be arriving soon. Do you know which one of them is the reader? They didn’t tell me anything about it.” 

“No, I don’t know who the reader is. Also, they call people with that ability ‘Silvertongues’,” Neil informed him and ignored the curious look he received. “Do you know what the Feds want from me?” 

“Well, you are the surviving victim of torture. We need you alive to testify against Wesninski and his people. It’s possible that you are going to be offered to enter the Witness Protection Program, which I’d recommend—” 

“Don’t hold your breath.” 

“Your safety—” 

“I’m going to be fine,” Neil interrupted him. “But you won’t have my father in your custody for long, I reckon.” 

Browning looked at him for a long second. “Regardless, there are still your father’s people that haven’t been jailed yet.” 

“If they came from our world, they won’t be. I’ll try to cooperate as much as I can on this scene, but all the information I have on my father isn’t useful in this world, only in ours. I’ll have to say I’ve been living on the streets with minimal contact with my mother, who disappeared a few years back until Wymack offered to house and feed me.” 

Neil sighed and started to try to force his fuzzy brain into creating a believable lie. Browning looked at him for a few seconds before sighing and nodding. They remained quiet until the other agents came back (without a glass of water, which made Neil pout and complain for a long time, long enough to make two out of the three agents annoyed enough to leave the room and stand alongside the doorway). 

It didn’t take long for a nurse to come and check his bandages. Neil begrudgingly allowed her to do it but it was impossible to be nice about it. Neil just wanted to get out and run away. Find a way to be sent back to his book now that he knew his father was here. 

Agent Browning made a good job of keeping the other agents in line, even though they were clearly not happy about it. What mattered to Neil, much more than the heavy atmosphere that was brewing in his bedroom, was that the Foxes were coming. 

Foxes who probably knew he wasn't real. 

But Foxes who cared about him either way. 

Hopefully. 

* * *

After making it clear that he would only talk after speaking to his friends, Neil thought he would have to wait for a few hours at least to be able to see them. He couldn't give a fuck about the grumbles and the threats some Feds made—if they wanted his collaboration, they should've recorded the Foxes saying they hated him (which, to be honest, the Foxes would never do. So maybe some knuckleheads should've stayed quiet). 

He thought they'd probably make him wait a bit longer until he was discharged too. 

In reality, it was more like 40 minutes for the former and 20 for the latter. 

Agent Browning and the grumpy one were the ones who took him to a hotel not that far away from the hospital. Neil would eat his bandages if the majority of the people coming in and out of the place weren't Feds too but luckily that wasn't important at the moment. 

They took him upstairs to the second floor and led him to a door that was guarded by another obvious Fed, who glowered at Neil but let him through regardless of his evident personal feelings on the matter. 

The Foxes were… well. It was hard to come up with a single word to describe what they were obviously feeling but overall the chorus of his name was filled with happy undertones (also a lot of worried faces). Their expressions showed how unhappy they were with Neil's new bandages but everybody seemed much more relieved to at least be seeing him back alive at all. 

Andrew was absent, though. Neil had opened his mouth to ask about him, heart racing as he turned to frown at Agent Browning, when the door opened with a sudden bang, and a brief wrestling happened until the grumpy guardian of the door lost and got shouldered by Wymack for his troubles after Andrew had already passed by him, unchallenged. 

Andrew almost found himself at gunpoint by the grumpy agent that had come with Neil but Browning put up a hand to stop him, though his face made it clear that he wasn't happy about it. Neil grimaced at the color of Andrew's wrist that was bound to Wymack by a handcuff. He couldn't expect anything different from Andrew though. It was probably impossible for him to be bound in any way and not want to fight it off instinctively. 

The hand that Neil had been watching raised towards Neil's face, hovering over the bandages. Andrew was not happy about them, one might even say that he looked unhappy, but that no one would ever dare to say to his face. 

“You look worried,” Neil said instead. 

“Fuck you,” Andrew replied putting his hand in the back of Neil's neck instead of touching the bandages. “Keep yourself quiet and I might just not punch you because of it.” 

“Be honest with yourself, you want to punch me regardless. It doesn't matter if I'm talking or silent,” Neil argued reasonably in a low voice, so that only Andrew could hear him. “I think it's part of why you haven't stabbed me yet.” 

“Keep yourself fucking quiet,” Andrew repeated with a growl. 

“I'm gonna do something better,” Neil said and then turned slightly to be able to look at Browning. “Could I have my moment with them alone? Like you promised?” 

“I can't leave you alone,” Browning frowned. “Would you be comfortable if it was just me here inside?” 

“Yes,” Neil shushed Andrew's inarticulate protest and got a (light) punch on his stomach for his troubles. “Thank you, Agent Browning.” 

Neil turned his attention back to Andrew, ignoring Browning arguments towards the other two agents. “So how long did it take you to notice that I wasn't around?” Neil said, meaning _how close did I get?_

“Not long enough, obviously,” Andrew replied, meaning, _Close enough._

Neil gave him a dry laugh for that and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths while he tried to come to terms with the fact that he'd survived his dad and their people. Again. It was unbelievable to him how the man in front of him was technically responsible for both of those occurrences. He might even associate Andrew with being saved but with the way that Andrew's heavy gaze rested on him, Neil knew he'd never utter that thought out loud. 

When the door closed with a tiny click and the room suddenly got a lot quieter, Neil opened his eyes again to see Browning approaching them, keys in hand. Andrew didn't turn to make it easy for him to open the handcuffs but Wymack did. 

When Andrew was free, Neil took a deep breath and turned to see all the other people in the room fully. It was a novelty to have so many people clearly worried about his well-being but also overwhelming. 

Neil knew they would have a lot of questions but before he could even open his mouth, Andrew said, “They know.” 

“They know?” Neil repeated, turning back to him again. “How much?” 

“Everything,” Aaron answered and then snorted. “Well, what we think is everything.” The glare he shot at Andrew made Neil roll his eyes. 

“At least now we know why you're so fucking annoying,” Seth commented, looking out of the window. “You're not fucking real, so someone probably made you to be that annoying so you would be killed and it'd be satisfyi—” 

A harmony of “Shut up, Seth!” was loud enough to drown out the end of his sentence and Seth scowled as he crossed his arms, glaring out the window harder than before. Hell, Neil couldn't wait until he graduated at the end of the semester and got out of their lives for good (hopefully, even out of Allison's life). 

“Well, since you already know everything… Do you have any questions?” 

“Are you okay, buddy?” Matt asked immediately and Neil saw him playing with his own fingers as if to stop himself from coming closer and pulling Neil into one of his bear hugs. 

“I'm fine,” Neil answered automatically and got a loud smack at the back of his head from Andrew for his troubles. Neil didn't even have time to get mad at Andrew because the slap made him wince and that made pretty much all of his wounds to do something generally painful and he swallowed a whimper. “Well… I will be fine,” he amended, shooting Andrew a dirty look. 

Most of the Foxes nodded and those who didn't were mercifully quiet about the whole ordeal. Neil wanted to ask who had come up with the plan of reading Browning out of the book, wanted to ask if Kevin’s obvious shaken state was because the Moriyamas had contacted them but he found himself suddenly fighting against a lump the size of an Exy ball in his throat. The Foxes had some questions for him (generally on the tones of trying to make sense of what was real about what he'd already told them about his own life) when they all got distracted by Kevin's sudden but loud inhale, followed by a whispered, “Shit”. 

“What happened _now_?” Allison snapped, annoyed but still a tiny bit apprehensive. 

Kevin turned to them and gulped. “Kengo Moriyama is dead.” He looked at Neil, at Browning and then his gaze stopped on Andrew for a few seconds. “Now Lord Ichirou is the one who's officially going to decide what happens with Wesninski.” 

He didn't say it, but the “Also with Andrew if he discovers we have a Silvertongue” was loud and crystal clear. 


	5. Chapter 5

The Foxes were kind enough to leave Kevin and his obvious mental breakdown to Andrew, though Abby did sometimes come to save him when Andrew needed a few drama-free moments. 

Well, one special moment that Abby did take over was when Andrew went with Neil so that he could lie shamelessly to some Feds' faces. Andrew spent the five hours of Neil's testimony being silent as he watched how Neil was able to keep his lies accountable and solid. He knew Neil was a good liar but seeing him exercising his skills for hours was… 

Interesting. Because Andrew refused to be amazed by him. 

Also, he refused to get lost in the pit of self-doubt about how much of what Neil told him was true. It wouldn't benefit anyone and Andrew actually trusted his gut. Neil had never given this level of performance to Andrew. 

When they were finally free and driven back to the hotel, Kevin was practically in shambles. Neil gestured with his head to let Andrew know he wanted him to go to Kevin, while Abby cleaned up his wounds and changed his bandages. With a sigh, Andrew went to the corner of the room where Kevin was currently sat, hands over his legs and making himself a small tight almost ball. 

“Give me your phone,” Andrew said and messed around with what Kevin had received while he was gone. 

Kevin's conversation with Jean was the only interesting one, even though parts of it were in French and Andrew had to rely on context and his meager knowledge of the language to understand it. 

It was an especially interesting conversation when taken into consideration Andrew now had to worry about what they were planning to do with the Wesninski and his Fuckers. With the chaos that the Moriyama empire now found itself thanks to its leader's death, Jean made it clear that there was no one actually that worried about Neil or the current FBI investigation. 

_The Lord is currently cleaning the house,_ Jean sent to Kevin. _Things don't too look good for me here. _

Kevin's many following questions went unanswered. Andrew didn't like to assume anything but he was fairly certain this silence was the reason Kevin was in such a bad state, worse than he'd been before Andrew left with Neil and the Feds. 

Andrew had no fake reassurances to offer him, though. When Neil finished his check up with Abby he might be able to come up with something that would work, but now? Andrew wanted to plan for the future. For when the Moriyamas did come sniffing around. 

And since Jean was apparently unable to read more than one person back into the book, Andrew was going to have to test himself. Would he be the stronger Silvertongue? 

Andrew looked back at Neil and thought about what a psychopath like Nathan loose in his world would do to get Neil back so he could finish what he started twice. 

He knew it was a lot. Something that could potentially risk the safety of people that mattered for Andrew, for one reason or another. 

It was unacceptable. 

So Andrew started to brainstorm while he got up, moved around his own stuff and found a bottle of vodka to pass along to Kevin so he could relax a little. 

Luckily, all the signs pointed out that they had a little bit of time. 

* * *

The look that Andrew gave Neil when Neil stared at him for a little too long was almost too funny. Andrew was exasperated with him, but he didn't look at all enraged. Neil then had to accept that he would never get to annoy Andrew again just by looking at him. 

Andrew hadn't told Neil why, but he had his guesses. 

The other Foxes watched them like hawks. Wymack yelled at them to go pack, _goddammit_, and they went, most of them still trying to watch Neil and Andrew interact. They clearly were invested in how Andrew treated him now that they finally knew that they wouldn't have Neil without Andrew. 

It was lame but Neil almost teared up at their nosiness. He had to stop and take a deep breath to feel at least a little bit back in control. This was not the appropriate time for a breakdown. 

Neil didn't have to pack anything, although it was nice to be informed that his stuff was already in Andrew's car, packed by Andrew himself, Nicky gleefully informed him, making himself scarce when Andrew dropped his own bag in the trunk of his car and turned towards him. 

Neil watched as Andrew looked at the place where his cousin had just been for a little while and used his time to analyze his profile. Andrew eventually got exasperated by his staring, approached Neil until he was able to grab his face and turn it sharply away from him. 

“Either stop it or get out,” he said lowly in a dead voice and shook Neil's face (gently, or as gentle as Andrew could be). 

Neil couldn’t resist teasing him a little. Mostly to test the waters to see if he was right. “Oh, but your face is too gorgeous for me to not—” 

“Be. _Quiet_. Too,” Andrew shook him once more, less gentle this time. “And drop the fucking accent.” 

Neil wanted to laugh right in Andrew's face. Wanted to taunt him by saying, _Why would I drop the accent when I know you like it so much?_

He had enough presence of mind to _not _do that right now. Andrew appeared to be calmer but who knows? Neil was already in pain and sometimes the universe took pity on him and let him actually use his own brain for thinking reasonable stuff instead of just witty comebacks. 

“What are you planning to do?” Neil asked him instead. Andrew ignored him in favor of taking one of his knives from his hidden sheaths to play with. Menacingly. Clearly trying to be threatening. 

Neil only raised an eyebrow and kept watching him. 

“Nothing,” Andrew answered after getting tired of the attention. 

“Why don't I believe you?” Neil asked but was impeded from keeping on with his questioning by Wymack, appearing in the doorway of the hotel entrance and looking at both of them for a few seconds. 

“We are ready to go,” he informed them, and that was enough to make both Andrew and Neil move away from each other to enter Andrew’s car. 

The Foxes had come in all the cars that had been taken to the cabins and they divided themselves accordingly. Some kind of movie night had been organized to happen in Abby’s living room but Neil didn't pay attention to it. Firstly because he was indeed in a little bit of pain but also because even though he knew his father's people were mostly locked up, he was still… jumpy. And he would stay jumpy for a while, probably—something he was definitely not looking forward. 

He had to think of a way to convince Andrew to plot against the Moriyamas _out loud_ because it wouldn't do him any good to be left in the dark about whatever Andrew’s incredible brain would come up with. 

Or… Neil could contact the Moriyamas first. Get rid of the suspense of waiting for them to come around to fuck with them. 

There were vague structures of a plan being formed in Neil's brain when he fell asleep on the front seat of Andrew's car, lulled to slumber despite Andrew’s reckless driving. 

But it was definitely something. And Neil intended to take the reins of his own narrative and do something about his right to live, for once. 

* * *

To be quite honest, Neil did realize what he was doing was stupid, frankly. Anyhow, here was him (first in Abby’s backyard but then nosy foxes wouldn’t let him make any calls, so he told them he was going on a run, WITH HIS PHONE and no he didn’t need company), with a phone number he’d gotten from Kevin’s phone without permission, calling a guy he’d never spoken to to be proactive about his life, for once. 

Or something like it. 

The phone rang for forever until it was picked up. There was no voice to greet him on the other side, just quiet, regulated breathing. 

“Hello, it’s Neil Josten,” he said tentatively. 

“I don’t know that name,” Jean answered, after long seconds of silence. 

“You might know my father,” said Neil, swallowing on nothing. “You actually read him a few months ago.” 

There was a very telling silence before a silent, “Ah” made itself heard. 

“I need to speak to your… boss, I guess.” 

“What makes you think he’ll just accept a call from you on _my_ phone?” Jean was clearly baffled by Neil’s logic. Actually, the longer this conversation happened, the less confident Neil felt in himself. 

And he started this call by thinking he was doing something stupid, mind you. 

“Just try to give the phone to him.” 

Jean mumbled some curses but judging from the sounds, Neil could say with certainty that he was getting up to do _something_, instead of just hanging up on his face—which was what Neil had been expecting. Needless to say that Neil could feel a bit of confidence coming back to him. 

There were faint murmurs in his ear for an incredibly long time. Jean was probably muffling the phone’s microphone by putting the device against his chest, and he heard the indistinguishable sounds of Jean walking around until he suddenly heard him say, loud and clear, “It’s Wesninski’s son. He wants to talk to the Lord.” 

“He’s busy.” 

“Could you please ask him if he wants to take this call?” Jean said in a sigh, clearly expecting a no. 

There were a few beats of silence and then… 

Neil’s ear was attacked by a loud sound. 

Something that resembled something dragging on the microphone. 

With his heart speeding up, Neil hoped it was the sound of the phone being passed to new hands. 

A faint conversation happened in Neil’s ear, too low to be properly deciphered until a low, deep voice said, “You have some audacity.” 

Lord Ichirou Moriyama didn’t sound impressed at all. 

“I know, Lord. I’m sorry.” 

“Is that what you interrupted my work to tell me?” The disdain in his voice was almost palpable through Neil’s phone. 

“Actually, I wanted to offer, first of all, my condolences. I know I’m nobody of importance to you, but family…” Neil took a deep breath and let his eyes get lost in the stars above. “Is family.” 

“You’re right,” Lord Ichirou said slowly. “You are nobody of importance.” 

“Is that why I haven’t been dealt with? Or my father and his people, for that matter?” 

Neil held his breath while Ichirou thought long and hard about his questions. Neil was aware that he had been incredibly out of line with them both and he didn’t need to mention how dumb it was to poke a sleeping tiger this way. But he didn’t want to beat around the bush and… well. Ichirou had been interrupted in a busy moment. The briefer he made this conversation, the better Ichirou would feel. Or something. 

“You haven’t been ‘dealt with’,” Moriyama’s voice dripped even more disdain now, bordering on distaste. “Because you are in no way _important_. You are not my responsibility. Whatever you think you can offer me, you are wrong. You have not proved yourself to the family and we don’t need you to. We know your story, Nathaniel Wesninski; you’re weak. And useless for us.” 

“Am I?” Neil taunted, taking a deep breath of courage. “I can’t even tempt you with my knowledge of Baltimore’s inner workin—” 

“You don’t seem to understand,” Ichirou’s voice was definitely annoyed, and it sounds colder than ice. “You are not valuable to me. You are _not real_ and untrustworthy. You weren’t even read by my father’s Silvertongue. But since you seem to need things spelled in a very easy way to you, let me make myself crystal clear: I don’t approve of magic-made employees. I’ve always been against the use of Silvertongues in our empire, unless it was to read material things. People are absolutely _unnecessary_.” 

Neil heard all that and he knew that he should at least ask something about what would be done to Jean but all he could think about was how it sounded like Ichirou wouldn’t be coming to take Andrew away, anger him and/or provoke mayhem through the Foxes line-up. Andrew probably wouldn’t need to worry about the Moriyamas at all in his future, if they were lucky. 

It was supposed to be _freeing_. But all Neil could feel was dread. 

That was what made him ask, “What about my father and his people?” 

“They’ll be dealt with.” 

“By the usual manner?” 

“By our Silvertongue.” 

Neil frowned. “The information I was given was that he was only able to do one per day.” 

“He is.” 

“Wouldn’t that just complicate things?” Ichirou kept himself quiet until Neil noticed that he was supposed to continue. “I mean, the FBI would notice the disappearances. There are already files filled with information I gave them.” 

“Fake ones,” Ichirou’s voice was dismissive. “Also, files are easily lost.” 

“Still, only one at a day…” 

“Why am I entertaining this,” Ichirou muttered, clearly meant to be only to himself and a clear sign that Neil was about to have the call ended. 

“Wait,” Neil almost yelled, fearing that Ichirou would indeed hang up. “What if I could offer a way to get rid of all of them, at once? Would that be favorable to you?” 

“... Maybe. What is your price for it?” 

“Your words that you’ll keep out of my teammates’ lives. Also, Jean was trained to be an Exy player, right? Maybe if you won’t have any use for his tongue anymore, you should just employ his body.” 

Neil heard a faint snort from the other side but he didn’t understand what he said that was so funny. 

“It’s a deal,” Ichirou said, and Neil let all his breath in one silent go. “If you can deliver it.” 

* * *

Hours and too many phone calls later, Neil went back to Abby’s house feeling incredibly fulfilled. Even the many police cars closing the access to Abby’s doorway wasn’t a source of sudden anxiety to him. 

Neil knew that the chances of quick reactions were high. He knew Browning was probably not here but he certainly must have _sent _someone. Browning would be able to accurately guess what had happened in the cells where his father and his people were supposed to be, but that didn’t stop the fact that he had to react accordingly. 

Before Neil was able to open the door, three policemen got out of one of the cars, guns pointed at Neil, each one of them yelling different versions of, “Don’t move! Hands where we can see them!” as if they hadn’t yet decided who was in charge or something. 

Honestly, law enforcement was shameful sometimes. 

The front door opened then and there was an annoyed Abby at the entrance, being partially hidden by the tall body of another police officer. “That’s _Neil Josten_,” she said in an angry voice. 

The three officers shamefully lowered their guns and their hung heads made it clear that they were trying to hide themselves too. Neil wanted to snort at them but he just raised his eyebrows at Abby. 

“Get inside,” Abby said to Neil and moved so he could pass. “We have bad news.” 

“What happened now,” Neil said in sufferance. Abby waited until the door was closed again and then she gave Neil a pitying look. 

“There has been a mass breakout this afternoon in Baltimore,” Abby took a deep breath and gave a step closer to Neil. “I’m sorry. Your father and his people escaped their cells. The FBI immediately informed the nearest police department.” 

Neil’s breathing had sped up and Abby quickly took his arm in a gentle hold and pulled him towards the living room. 

Half expecting it to be full, Neil was surprised by the presence of just Andrew, Kevin and Wymack there. He had a moment of feeling self-conscious about his performance and then he turned back to Abby to say, “How?” in a shaky voice. 

“They don’t know how yet,” Wymack answered, crossed arms and looking at Neil with an unimpressed gaze. “They’ll know more as the search progresses.” 

Andrew got up from his place on the sofa when Abby started to say, “Breath with me, Neil.” His hand was heavy in the back of Neil’s neck. 

Neil pretended he couldn’t listen, lost in his own head. 

“Stop it, Abram,” Andrew deadpanned. Neil gave him an incredulous look and kept fake-hyperventilating. He was so good at it that he was actually starting to get light-headed. 

He heard Andrew saying to the officer, “I’m going to take him to his room,” and Neil was glad to hear no footsteps following them. The officers, if they did their job right, had probably already looked for all the possible entrances and exits of the building. 

Neil stopped faking his anxiety attack when they got to the room and Andrew closed the door. 

“You’re such a fucking liar,” Andrew growled, pushing Neil towards the bed. 

“I couldn’t tell them I already knew,” Neil answered, stumbling and still trying to regain his breathing. “What was I going to say? ‘Oh, I actually coordinated their disappearances. Don’t worry though, they are probably still alive!” 

Andrew didn’t answer anything but Neil didn’t expect an answer. He just threw himself on the bed and concentrated on breathing in and out. After a few seconds, Andrew asked quietly, “Are you satisfied with your little gift for a mob boss?” 

“I don’t think of it as a gift,” Neil clarified, frowning. “It’s more a… favor, I guess.” 

Andrew snorted quietly. “Good luck trying to cash on that.” 

Neil smiled at the ceiling. “Oh, I won’t ever try to do that. I’m not stupid.” 

“Not much of a favor then, is it?” 

“Maybe,” Neil said, smiling. “Are we finally going to talk?” 

“About what?” Andrew didn’t look at him as he walked to the window, opening it wide and gazing very far away. 

“Us, of course.” 

“There’s no us.” 

Neil got up from the bed and approached Andrew, getting close but still leaving plenty of room for him to getaway. 

“Now, now, Andrew,” he murmured and his breath was close enough to Andrew’s neck that he felt him trying to stop a shiver. Neil smiled again. “You’re not the liar between the two of us.” 

Andrew turned slightly and squinted at Neil with disgust. 

“What can you lose by talking to me?” 

* * *

It took forever for Jean’s existence to be acknowledged again as he waited in front of the door, looking at the guards and, when it happened, Jean wasn’t even told to go inside the office _verbally_. The guard on the left in front of him just suddenly seemed to be paying attention to something else, probably to whatever he was being told via the subtle earpiece he had, and then he opened the door of the office, clearly thinking that Jean wasn’t worth to be even _looked_ at, let alone spoken to. 

After a few seconds of silence, Jean understood that he was supposed to go inside the office to get his phone back. He steeled himself and walked in, eyes wanting to wander through the whole space, but he knew it wouldn’t come up with anything as threatening as the man who was right there, in front of him. 

Without his father there for him to act as a shadow, Ichirou Moriyama felt slightly more legit. Jean would never say that he _looked_ like a mob boss. Ichirou was probably never going to look like a mob boss because he carefully cared for his appearance in a methodical way. He’d always look like an indescribable businessman, hopeful of growing his own company and “making it”. 

It was a good disguise. A lot of cops would probably fall for it. 

Jean approached the desk Ichirou was sat at, and if Jean could guess he’d say that Ichirou didn’t even notice he was playing a little with Jean’s phone. He was twirling it absentmindedly, but skillfully. 

“Sit,” Ichirou commanded when Jean just stood in front of him in silence. Jean acquiesced, swallowing dry. “Take this back.” 

Jean got his phone and put it in his front pocket, not taking his eyes from Ichirou’s hand. He just couldn't look at his face. He had no idea what Nathaniel Wesninski or Neil Josten could’ve thought was important to communicate to Ichirou but Jean hoped it wouldn’t negatively affect _him_. He’d had led a pretty sad life already. It didn’t need a sad death too. 

“Did you know what he was going to offer?” Ichirou asked. 

“No, my Lord.” Jean briefly looked up, getting just a glimpse of Ichirou’s unmoved face and then went back to staring at Ichirou’s hands. He hesitated before continuing. “We… are not friends.” 

“Yes, you and Kevin Day were teammates. I imagine he’s your friend,” Ichirou hummed almost inaudibly and then sighed. “He offered to get rid of all the people you’ve read for us.” 

Jean hesitated again. “At once?” 

“At once. Apparently, whoever read _him_ out can do it.” 

Jean’s stomach dropped and it felt like its weight was pulling all of his guts downwards with it as well. If the Silvertongue that Kevin had was stronger than he was, Jean was screwed. He had absolutely _nothing _to offer to the family other than his magical powers. It was the only reason he hadn’t been quietly dealt with, like both Riko and Tetsuji Moriyama. If Jean had been out-talented, then he would die, right? 

His hands started to shake. He sat on top of them. 

Ichirou’s phone pinged once. It was almost enough to make Jean jump but he controlled himself. Ichirou read whatever was the message on his phone and said a quiet, “Huh. He did it.” 

“That’s good, right?” Jean said, cursing his voice for trembling. 

“It’s inconsequential, actually,” Ichirou dropped his phone again and Jean finally noticed that he’d been looking at Ichirou’s face for quite a while now. He wanted to drop his gaze but something in Ichirou’s eyes said that wasn’t what he wanted. Taking a deep breath, Jean kept on looking at the man who was going to decide his future. “Whether you did it in a month or his Silvertongue did it in a few hours, it doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in using Silvertongues anymore.” 

“At all?” This time, Jean was proud that his voice didn't tremble or waver. He sounded as strong as ever but not disrespectful of his Master. 

“I don’t see any advantages in using Silvertongues to read people out of books to work on my business. As it’s evident now and was also clear to me thanks to past situations, people are unreliable unless thoroughly tested, no matter if they are made of flesh or spoken ink. This particular skill of yours is useless to me.” 

It was weird, having to come to terms with the nearness of his death and not even fully processing it. Jean wished he had time to mourn himself but the truth was… he didn’t feel much about it. Yes, it had been relieving to live for a few months free of hurt and abuse but it would probably be better to embrace the nothingness of death. It sounded like rest and his frail nerves would probably appreciate it. 

He had gone so deep into his own introspection that he almost missed what Ichirou said next. “You still know how to play Exy?” 

“What?” Jean asked, not worried about politeness. 

“Exy. The sport my uncle trained you to play,” Ichirou spoke with deliberate slowness, giving Jean a sharp look. “Do you still know how to play it?” 

“I–Yes. Of course.” 

“Good. My contacts are going to organize a meeting with some important coaches. If any of them are interested, the proper arrangements will be made so that you can join their teams, if not the lineup right away.” 

“You are not going to make me play with the Ravens?” Jean’s voice asked without him giving it permission but it was an important question, after all. 

Ichirou looked at him for a few seconds and then only said, “Obviously not.” 

Jean didn’t question it. He kind of wanted to ask how long Ichirou had been planning to get rid of Silvertongues—in a dark part of his mind, he even wanted to question what _exactly_ had happened to the last Silvertongue. 

But Jean wasn’t stupid enough to provoke the hand that was offering him a new opportunity. As fast as he had accepted that he was going to die, he accepted that now he’d been giving a new purpose. 

“Is there anything else I need to know?” 

And as Ichirou carefully outlined what he was supposed to abide by, how much of a financial tithe he would be expected to donate to specific channels, Jean could feel his battered and bruised hope picking itself up from the ground and trying to stand steady and strong. 

He was going to be _free_. 

* * *

All of the Foxes appeared on Abby’s house early in the next morning, so Wymack said goodbye to his quiet morning TV time. It took them no time to start yelling and making a big, annoying ruckus. The police officer that had been inside with them actually went after a higher ranking officer just so he could ask permission to guard the _house_, and logically stay far away from all of them. 

Wymack wanted to be mad at his Foxes’ behavior, but he remembered who he was and knew he simply couldn’t. Although they rarely ever took off their spiked armor when they were together, when needed he knew that they could put their differences aside and behave like a team. 

_Like a family_, Dan would sometimes emphatically pointed out to him. 

So he let them bicker as much as they wanted. Thinking through her lenses, it was nice to see all of his Foxes in one place. Definitely easier on his nerves, that’s for sure. The local news seemed to have caught on that something fishy was happening around campus. Wymack had told Charles Whittier earlier the whole (edited) situation and it only elicited a sigh from Wymack’s boss. Neil wasn’t a student so there was nothing the president or the school board could do to protect him, technically, but Charles made sure to inform him that the heads-up was appreciated. 

“The board is going to love this.” Charles rubbed his forehead. Wymack doubted he had a headache of any kind _right_ now but knew that in a few hours he probably would. “Right before the end of Spring Break, your… relative is abducted, tortured and their torturers somehow escaped their prisons and that’s why the campus is now swarming with police officers.” 

“It could’ve been worse,” Wymack had told him. 

“That’s not reassuring,” Charles almost growled at him, so Wymack thought he should just shrug and leave the man to commiserate alone. 

Now, Wymack almost wished he was there with Charles, going through possible ways of wording the news to board. It would be definitely better than watching his Foxes suddenly glue their eyes on the TV, seeing their own campus splashed there and the news that clearly was reporting on the number of uniforms present in the school. Apparently, no information had been released to the media other than, “We are protecting the students” and “No comments”. 

Some of his Foxes didn’t look at Neil but a few of them stared at him hostilely. 

“Hey, I didn’t call the cops,” Neil said, sullenly. He had dropped the British accent with the team and Wymack wanted to bark a laugh at how many of them had been visibly sad to see it go. 

Nicky had been the only one to ask about where his accent had gone, and Neil had said, “Which accent?” in a perfect _French_ accent and kept changing it until Andrew did something to him under the table that made him wince but still smile as he went quiet. 

“Don’t act as if they aren’t here just because of you,” Aaron snapped and took a bite of his toast. 

“Technically, they are here because of _Andrew_,” Neil muttered and the whole kitchen was suddenly plunged into silence. Wymack looked outside the kitchen’s window and saw two officers loitering outside near it but Wymack knew they wouldn’t be able to hear anything. 

“_No,_” Nicky gasped. “You _didn’t_. How did you convince Andrew to do anything for you? What did you use to bribe him?” 

“I really didn’t _use_ anything,” Neil told Nicky, frowning slightly. “I just asked.” 

Wymack threw a speculative look at Neil and another one quickly to Andrew. His gaze went back to Neil after making sure that the boy was apparently dumber than a door if he hadn’t yet noticed how _he_ was enough to bribe Andrew just by being himself. 

“As if you didn’t orchestrate it,” Allison said, waving a dismissive hand to Neil. “Did you get rid of Browning too?” 

“Not yet,” Neil said, playing with the breadcrumbs on his plate. “There are still some tiny details that I need to give him before he can go back. Obviously, I can’t send him back too late, or he’s going to have to hunt my father down all over again, but… He’s going to be gone by the end of the day, definitely.” Neil shrugged. 

“You won’t send him back because you didn’t give him “tiny” details and in the process, you’re gonna risk your father getting away?” Matt said in a voice that clearly was trying to understand Neil’s logic. “Why not just send him without them?” 

“It could be important information when he’s building up his case, maybe.” 

“Tiny things can change the outcome of big future events,” Wymack gave his input, thinking about Neil and his general chaos walking energy. 

“Tiny things or tiny people?” Nicky joked and then he looked at Neil and Andrew to be met with a glare and a dead look that promised violence. Nicky gulped. “Things. I meant things.” 

Wymack sighed. It was going to be a long morning. 

* * *

Andrew looked at where Neil was sitting in the middle of the Foxes, paying attention to what they were <del>yelling</del> saying but not contributing to the conversation himself. He was still giving Nicky the cold shoulder about the tiny people comment but Andrew knew he didn’t really mean it. 

When Neil meant something, it was ridiculous how earnest he could be. Disgusting, really. 

Neil must have felt the weight of Andrew’s attention on him because he turned his head slightly, a smirk already stretching his lips. Andrew wanted to get up and force them to lay normally, to just _stop _showing what he felt to the world. He wanted to growl at Neil, _Haven’t you learned?! Stop showing your emotions to anyone with eyes!_

Andrew just got up and walked outside, uncaring about the cops. He was too busy revisiting the fresh memory of _Neil _confronting _him _about them. 

It was hysterical, how that stupid fuck just thought Andrew might have felt something for him and he just pounced on it. Without fear of being rejected or anything. 

When Andrew heard Neil saying they were going to discuss “us”, he felt his world stop. First because _how had Neil known about it_, Andrew had been _fucking careful._

“I didn’t know for certain,” Neil said, shrugging. “The only thing I had was the certainty that you were gay. And that you liked to beat me up to a pulp on the regular. But it felt like you also… cared about me? In your own way, I mean. After all, you haven’t cashed yet on the whole ‘saving my life’ thing and that’s most unlike you, y’know.” 

“So you just, what? Decided to see if I wanted to make out with you?” 

“Basically,” Neil shrugged and gave a tiny smile and Andrew’s fixed gaze on him. “Don’t be so shocked but if you want someone to blame, blame your cousin.” 

“For you coming onto me?” 

“For reminding me that that was something I could explore now. Of course, you can send me away, but… I think we could be good together. I have no idea if I’ll like it because… well, you know what my experience with kissing is like, but I’m willing to try again. My mom isn’t my controlling shadow anymore. I don’t think I need to worry about getting attached to people and jeopardizing my safety anymore.” 

Andrew raised an eyebrow and wanted to doubt it. After all, if Neil hadn’t noticed that he’d stopped following his mother’s rules a long while ago with the Foxes, he was dumber than Andrew had thought. Because of that, how dangerous would it be to Andrew for getting involved with someone like that? Neil could do something that would send Andrew into a spiral of despair without a thought. He could destroy the fragile mental stability Andrew had built for himself around sensual and sexual contact. He could be Andrew’s descent into chaos, _again_. 

But oh, did Andrew _yearn_ for him. It was scary to want a boy so bad, so strongly. Reckless. 

“There’d be rules.” 

“Of course.” 

“If you cross any of my lines…” 

“Andrew.” Neil waited until Andrew was lost in the snowstorm of his eyes before speaking again. “You’ll be in control of _everything_. The pace will be set and we’ll abide for it. But I know that you are fascinating and I don’t want to disregard this feeling just because it’s something new and unusual for me. Also… I don’t want to miss out on experiences because I let myself get in my own way.” 

Neil was clearly thinking about his last few days and Andrew saw him looking down at his bandages. Knowing that that probably wasn’t good for Neil, who had been holding tight onto his mask of Everything’s fine, Andrew hovered one hand near Neil’s cheek until he swallowed and nodded his permission. 

Neil’s cheek had an interesting texture because of the bandages but Andrew knew it would be even more unique once the bandages came off and his scars healed again. Andrew would never have to deal with getting lost in memories just from touching Neil’s skin. 

“Andrew,” Neil murmured. 

“Yes?” 

“Will you try this with me?” 

It was one of the dumbest things Andrew had ever done—follow his feelings, that is—but he wanted this. 

And he would get it. After all, Neil was not exactly real which made him everything Andrew needed in his life. 

Kissing Neil was more real than anyone Andrew had ever kissed before. It felt like _feeling_ but in the best way possible. 

Andrew would tread carefully but he doubted this would hurt. It felt too good to be anything other than what was supposed to happen. Like his universe was finally aligning itself or something ridiculous like it. Andrew was too busy to think rationally, after all, but he got himself to a pretty decent conclusion: 

He knew Neil's past inside out, backwards and upside down. He would know his future in the same way because he doubted Neil would let him go. And maybe… maybe it'd be okay if he let Neil know him too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's a wrap! As I've said before, im not exactly happy with this, but at least it's finally done. Also, nothing stops me from editing it in a few days, or months, or years! Or something. It's late in the evening for me, and all i want is to eat my dinner and pass out lmao
> 
> thank you for reading!!!! You're an absolute LEGEND how are you REAL??????
> 
> English is not my first language, so feel free to correct any of my wrong-doings lol

**Author's Note:**

>   
come find me at [polzkadotz](http://polzkadotz.tumblr.com) if you wanna talk or smth lol  



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